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■^RUNHILDE > 


THE LAST ACT OF NORMA 


BY 

PEDRO A. De ALARCON 


TRANSLATED FROM 
THE SPANISH 


MRS. FRANCIS J. A. DARR 



A ail 





3 


Copyright, i8gi 
By lizzie S. DARK 


PART FIRST 


THE DAUGHTER OF HEAVEN 


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. ’** ^ • 



BRUNHILDE; 

OR THE LAST ACT OF NORMA 


CHAPTER I. 

THE AUTHOR AND THE READER TRAVEL 
FREE. 

N the 15th of April, a few years ago, 
the steamer Rapid, which had left 
Cadiz at seven in the morning, was 
ploughing its way on the Guadalquivir toward 
Seville. 

It was seven in the evening. 

Nature showed that tranquil lethargy which 
follows clear, beautiful days, as serenity, in 
our lives, succeeds sleep, younger sister of in- 
evitable death. 

The sun sank in the west in his eternal 
glory— for there are glories eternal. 



6 


Brunhilde, or 


The wind slept, I know not where, as a child 
tired of running and playing, sleeps on its 
mother’s breast, — if it have one. 

In fact, the favored sky of that ever bloom- 
ing region, seemed to reflect in its infinite 
dome, all the smiles of the new spring which 
was playing over the fields. 

What a glorious afternoon in which to be 
wealthy and beloved ! 

The Rapid traversed the solitary splendor 
of that landscape, disturbing the gentle waves, 
and leaving but two fugitive tracks behind — a 
puff of smoke on the breeze, and a wake of 
foam on the river. 

There still remained an hour of travel, and 
one noticed on deck that happy restlessness 
with which travellers greet the end of every 
journey. 

The breeze wafted them an intoxicating 
breath, laden with essence of rose, laurel and 
orange flower, in 'which they recognized the 
fragrance of that goddess to whose breast they 
were flying. 

Little by little, the banks of the river rose, 


The Last Act of Norma. 7 

affording sites for numerous villages, country- 
seats, cottages and rambles. 

At last there appeared in the distance, a 
tower gilded by the twilight ; soon another, 
still higher ; finally, a thousand distinct forms, 
all standing out clear and beautiful against the 
evening sky. 

“ Seville 

This cry filled the passengers with a sense 
of veneration. 

Then followed general confusion, hurried 
leave-taking, the searching for luggage, families 
collecting in groups, arranging their dress, in- 
quiring of each other where they intended to 
lodge, etc., etc. 

One solitary individual among all those on 
board merits our attention,. as he is the only 
one of them who is connected with this story. 

In order to know him, we will profit by the 
few moments required by the Rapid to anchor, 
fearing that we may lose sight of him in the 
crooked streets of the Moorish capital. We 
will approach him, now that he is resting alone 
on the stern of the quarter-deck. 


8 


Brunhildey or 


CHAPTER IL 

OUR HERO. 



ERHAPS we had better lend an ear to 
the remarks of his fellow-passengers 
regarding him. 

“ Who is that handsome, dark-eyed fellow,” 
asked one, “ whose intelligent and sympathetic 
face seems so familiar to me? ” 

“You may well remember him,’' answered 
another. “ It is Serafin Arellano, Spain’s first 
violinist, now leader of the orchestra in the 
Principal theatre of Cadiz.” 

“ To be sure ! Only last night I heard him 
play in ‘ Favorita ’ ; but he certainly appeared 
older to me.” 

“ He is no older than he looks,” added a 
third ; “ for in spite of his grave and thought- 
ful air, he has not yet finished his twenty-fifth 
year.” 



The Last Act of Norma. 


9 


“ Really ! Where was he born ? ” 

In Guipuzcoa, I believe.” 

“ That land of great musicians ! ” 

“ He has revived the good old fashion that 
the leader of the orchestra need not be a 
species of optical telegraph, but a distinguished 
violinist, who may accompany the singing 
voice in the difficult passages, who may play 
the preludes of songs, and who may inspire, so 
to speak, the rest of the instruments with the 
sentiment of his own genius, and not by means 
of dumb signs traced in the air with the bow 
or baton ; but by making his violin sing, and 
by sharing the plaudits with the singers, as he 
did last night.” 

“ Add also that he is an excellent composer. 
I know of several beautiful waltzes he has 
written.” 

“ Why does he come to Seville ? " 

“ I do not know. The operatic season in 
Cadiz closed last night. Perhaps he is re- 
turning home, or going to Madrid.” 

“ They say he is going to Italy.” 

What a conscious air he has ! ” said a lady 


lO 


Brunhilde^ or 


of rather uncertain age. “ How well he knows 
the effect of that white hand stroking his 
black beard — too long, by far, to suit my 
taste.” 

“ But he is a very good looking fellow.” 

“ Is he married ? ” asked a young girl. 

Pardon me,” answered the individual 
questioned, turning upon his heel. “ I hear 
them preparing to drop anchor, and I must 
look out for my luggage.” 

Thus the conversation ended, and the group 
separated forever. 




The Last Act of Norma. 


1 1 


CHAPTER III. 


ADVENTURES OF THE NEPHEW OF A CANON. 



HE Rapid arrived at Seville, and, as 
usual, anchored off the Golden 
Tower. 

On the left hand of the river is a magnifi- 
cent promenade, bordered at this point by a 
long iron balcony, where ordinarily many peo- 
ple assemble to watch the arrival and depart- 
ure of the boats. 

Serafin Arellano glanced at the multitude 
without discovering any one whom he 
knew. 

He went ashore and directed a porter 
to carry his luggage to the Duke’s Plaza, 
No. — . 

He saluted the magnificent cathedral with 
the respect and enthusiasm of an artist, and 



12 Brunhildey or 

entered the Calle Sierpes, so noted for its 
rich commerce. 

He had gone but a few steps when he 
heard a voice near him calling : 

“ Serafin ! Dear Serafin ! ” 

He turned, and came face to face with a 
man of his own age, elegantly dressed, but 
after the fashion of a wealthy East Indian. 

Hfs trousers, vest, coat and cravat, were of 
blue and white linen ; a colored shirt, low 
goat-skin shoes, and a wide brimmed straw hat 
completed the costume. This dress, easy and 
artistically disarranged, lent a thousand 
charms to a tall, well proportioned figure. 

His energetic physiognomy, bronzed by the 
sun and adorned by a long, graceful mus- 
tache, was full of mobility, grace and anima- 
tion. Serafin stopped an instant, only an 
instant, his eyes fixed on the stranger, as if 
trying to recognize him, when suddenly throw- 
ing himself into his arms he exclaimed : 

'' Albert ! My dear fellow ! 

“ If you had been a moment — what do I 
say ? — a second longer in saying those words, I 


The Last Act of Norma, 13 

would have killed you, and died in consequence 
of remorse.’’ 

The two friends laughed heartily, and em- 
braced each other again with more tender- 
ness. 

“You here!” exclaimed Serafin, transported 
with delight. “ Where do you come from ? 
No one would recognize you. And why have 
you not written me these three years? My, 
but you are handsome ! ” 

“ Now there ! stop this flattery and chafiflng, 
which you deserve as much yourself, and ex- 
plain this meeting to me.” 

“ Explain it yourself; but tell me first why 
you have not written to me for so many 
years.” 

“Well,” replied Albert, “you seem to think 
that there are mails from everywhere to Gui- 
puzcoa, and paper and ink with which to 
write ! But you ! what have you been doing 
all this time ? Why are you in Seville ? 
Where do you come from ? Where are you 
going? And above all, Cain, where is thy sis- 
ter?” 


14 


Brunhildey or 


“ I left San Sebastian a year ago, and I have 
not been there since.” 

“ What ! you resigned as first violin in that 
theatre ? ” 

“Yes, but to accept the leadership in the 
Principal at Cadiz.” 

“ The devil ! I am very glad to hear it. 
And your sister? Does she live with you?” 

“ Who ? Matilde ? ” stammered Serafin, con- 
fusedly. 

“ Certainly, Matilde. Which sister would I 
mean, since you have no other?” 

“ Matilde,” replied the musician, “ lives here 
with my aunt, who cannot stand the climate of 
Cadiz.” 

“ Of course she is as handsome — ” 

Serafin stopped a moment and then stam- 
mered : 

“ She is married.” 

Albert started back a step and said : 

“ Great God ! Matilde married ! Just when 
I was thinking of marrying her myself! Ma- 
tilde married to another man ! Truly I was 
born under an unlucky star.” 


15 


The Last Act of Norma, 

Serafi'n, turning pale, exclaimed : 

“What! Did you love Matilde?'’ 

Albert attempted to compose himself, and 
feigning to smile, answered : 

My dear fellow, if she is married — but — 
the truth — your sister was so lovely 1 Yes, 
such a marriage would have made me happy. 
But, patience ! 

“You might have made Matilde very un- 
happy,” exclaimed the artist gravely. 

“Why?” 

“ Because you love a different woman every 
day. You are never in earnest ; you are 
fickle.” 

“You are right! You are right!” ex- 
claimed Albert, affecting more gayety than he 
felt. “ I am a capricious weathercock so 
you may rest easy regarding your brother- 
in-law. All my emotions are short-lived. By 
accident, last night, I fell in love again. I will 
tell you about it presently. But to return to 
your sister, do you believe that I would not 
have loved her earnestly? But what nonsense! 
The day that you presented me to her, four 


i6 


Brunhilde^ or 


years ago, you told me that she was engaged 
— I don’t remember to whom, and warned me 
not to be too devoted. I obeyed you in spite 
of my desire — but tell me, did she marry 
him? ” 

“Whom?” asked Serafin, evidently dis- 
turbed. 

“I don’t know. You never told -me who 
my rival was.” 

“ Ah, no ! That was broken off. She mar- 
ried some one else. But it is a secret.” 

‘‘The devil! If there is a woman in the 
world who interests me it is Matilde.” 

“ Albert ! ” 

“ Don’t be alarmed. I will scarcely look at 
her.” 

“ That will not be very difficult for you, 
considering the fact that you fell in love for 
the thousandth time last night. But let us 
talk of something else. Why have you not 
written me? Answer me seriously.” 

“ True, we were speaking of that. Well, 
sir, the month we parted, my uncle, the Canon, 
died. Poor uncle ! ” mused Albert. “ Be- 


The Last Act of Norma. 17 

twe^n cash and plantations, two hundred 
thousand dollars. Well had I earned them ! ’’ 
“ He left all to you ? ” 

“All.” 

“Good !” 

“ As you may imagine I threw off the cas- 
sock which was destined to be my shroud ; 
gave the Bible a tender farewell kiss, arranged 
my affairs, filled the corners of my trunks 
with doubloons, and started on my travels. 
How I have journeyed ! I have seen at least 
two-thirds of the world. I have been in 
America, Egypt, Greece, India and Germany. 
How much I have seen ! And all this without 
method, just in passing, like an eagle. What 
three years they have been ! Oh what a beau- 
tiful world God has made ! But where do you 
suppose I am going now?” 

“ Tell me.” 

I go — pay attention now, and prepare to 
be astonished — I go to the North Pole ! ” 

It would be impossible to describe the tone 
in which Albert spoke these words, or the as- 
tonishment with which Serafin heard them; 


i8 


Brunhilde, or 


but as soon as he could collect himself he ex- 
claimed, with tender interest: ‘‘You reckless 
fellow, you will be frozen to death.” 

“ Bah ! ” exclaimed Albert. “ I have almost 
melted in the desert of Sahara, where I lived 
fifteen days, and I have been almost broiled 
on the equator, in the peninsula of Malacca. 
I am made of iron ! I have resolved to spend 
my life and money in seeing the world, and I 
will accomplish it, God willing.*’ 

“You have at least improved in religious 
matters,” said Serafin, endeavoring^o conceal 
his concern. “ Before, you only invoked the 
devil, and now, in our conversation, you have 
twice mentioned the Creator.” 

Albert meditated a moment and continued : 
“ Let me tell you that all who travel much 
cease to believe in the devil, and return to be- 
lieve in God. I, nevertheless, preserve an 
affection for Satan. The devil ! It is so ex- 
pressive to say ‘ the devil ! ’ ” 

“And when do you start?” asked Se- 
rafin. 

“ To-morrow afternoon.” 


The Last Act of Norma, 19 

“ On what ship ? 

“On a Swedish brig, which dropped anchor 
four days ago in Cadiz, if the newspapers do 
not lie, and it sails day after to-morrow for 
Lapland. To-morrow I go to Cadiz; I arrive; 
I go aboard the brig; then, to the North! 
As soon as we reach Lapland, which will be in 
the middle of May, I shall board the first 
Greenland whaler bound for Spitzbergen. 
Once there, I can say I have advanced toward 
the Pole as far as the most daring navigator. 
Nevertheless, if it should be spring — but no, 
the devil take it, then I might be frozen, as 
you say.” 

“What were you thinking of?” 

“ Of going to the Pole.” 

“ Heavens ! ” 

“ No — no^ — I know that it is impossible. 
But I will go very near it.” 

“ A good journey to you, then,” said Serafin. 

“Now,” continued Albert, “tell me some- 
thing of yourself. What are you doing in Se- 
ville ? ” 

“ That is easy. I am doing nothing^’ 


20 


Brunhilde, or 


“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ I have this moment arrived.” 

“And what do you intend to do?” 

“ Leave with you, at once.” 

“ For where ? The Pole ? ” 

“ What nonsense ! For Cadiz.” 

“ But why did you come ? ” 

“To take leave of my sister; for I, also, in- 
tend to take a long journey.” 

“ You ! ” 

“ I ! ” 

“And where are you going? 

“ To Italy ! To realize the dream of my 
life ! I have saved enough of my salary to en- 
able me to visit that country of music ; that 
land where all are inspired, where all sing ; 
that peninsula — ” 

“ That peninsula,” interrupted Albert, imi- 
tating Serafin’s ardor; “that peninsula, 
shaped by a shoemaker, which, according to 
geography, is on the point of kicking Sicily 
over into Africa.” 

“ Do not ridicule my most cherished, my 
only illusion.” 


The Last Act of Norma, 2I 

“I respect it for being yours; but I prefer 
my Pole ! But let us go to your sister — I 
have told you not to alarm yourself — and 
to-morrow, at seven o’clock, we will return to 
Cadiz by the Rapid. There we will separate, 
you to go to the South, I to the North — and 
perhaps, some day, we will meet in the antip- 
odes.” 

By this time they had arrived before a 
pretty house in the Duke’s Plaza, which they 
entered, after Serafin had said to Albert : 

“ Do not forget that my sister — is my sis- 
ter.” 

Albert shrugged his shoulders, and sighed 
deeply. 


22 


Brunhilde, or 


CHAPTER IV. 


WHERE THEY DISCUSS WOMEN IN GENERAL, 
AND ONE IN PARTICULAR. 


HE sister of Serafin Arellano would 
have pleased the reader. 

Beautiful eyes, full of deep feel- 
ing ; a noble and sympathetic face ; sculptured 
lines, which the eye delighted to gaze upon ; 
a melancholy, but sweet expression, and only 
twenty-two years of age. Such ‘was Matilde, 
as she threw herself into Serafin's arms. 

“Who have you with you?” she asked, 
after embracing her brother. 

“ Albert,” stammered Serafin. 

“ Albert ! ” repeated Matilde, growing pale. 

“ Who must not see you until you and I 
have had a few words together,” added Sera- 
fin. 

He entered the drawing-room with his sis- 


The Last Act of Nor^na, 23 

ter, while Albert, who had lingered behind to 
await Serafin’s luggage, was ascending the 
stairway — quietly humming to himself. 

He was shown into a reception room, where 
he was received by the aunt of his two friends, 
a quiet old lady who passed her life in bed, or 
in an arm-chair. 

The invalid was very much pleased to meet 
her nephew’s gay comrade ; but they had 
barely spoken four words when Serafin ap- 
peared with Matilde. 

“You have promised me,” whispered the 
artist to his sister ; “ be careful.” 

Matilde nodded in acquiescence. 

“ Here is Matilde,” said Serafin aloud. 

Albert turned, with outstretched arms. 

The young girl merely extended her hand. 

For a moment he was disconcerted ; but 
soon recovering himself, clasped it tenderly. 

Matilde forced a smile. 

Serafin meanwhile was greeting his aunt. 

“And your husband?” asked Albert, en- 
deavoring to give his voice a most indifferent 
tone. 


24 


Brunhilde^ or 

» 

“ Is in Madrid,” she replied. 

“Of course you are happy?” 

Serafin coughed. 

“Very,” answered Matilde, moving off- to 
ring the bell. 

Albert passed his hand across his forehead, 
and his face assumed its usual careless expres- 
sion. 

“ I warn you,” he said, “ that I am dying of 
hunger.” 

“ And I of thirst,” said Serafin. 

“ I, of both,” added Albert. 

“ I have just ordered dinner,” murmured 
Matilde. 

The three young people then repaired to 
the dining-room, the old lady having already 
dined. 

“ We now wish to know, Serafin,” exclaimed 
Albert, after they had finished the first course, 
and almost a bottle of wine, “ how your love 
affairs are progressing. Have you met no one 
yet who has turned your head? Are you still 
as eccentric in regard to women ? or, are you 
in love? ” 


The Last Act of Norma. 25 

“ No, thank God ! I am not at present. 
And may His Divine Majesty spare me from 
being so in the future.” 

“God forbid!” replied Albert. “You are 
made of plaster, unless I am greatly mistaken. 
With those Arabian eyes, and that dark skin 
it is impossible that you should so live.” 

“What would you have? I assure you I 
absolutely fear love.” 

“ But why? If you have never felt it, how 
can you fear it ? Don’t you know what St. 
Augustine said : ‘ Ignoti nulla Cupido ? ’ ” 

“Tell me more clearly; why use Latin?” 

“ I will translate it : ‘ That which one does 
not know, one does not fear ; ’ but the Saint 
meant to say : ‘ That one does not desire the 
unknown.’ ” 

“Then Saint Augustine places me in the 
right.” 

During this conversation Matilde did not 
raise her eyes from her plate. 

It was apparent that she did not enjoy Al- 
bert’s levity. 

“ But,” added Serafin, “ I am not as igno- 


26 


Brunhilde, or 


rant of love as you seem to imagine. I was in 
love — there ! — I had read two or three of 
d’Arlincourt’s novels, after which I endeavored 
to find some Isolina, some Yola. But do you 
know what I found? Vanity, lies, material- 
ism and prose. Then I took up the violin, 
and dedicated myself exclusively to music. 
To-day I am in love with Bellini’s Juliet, with 
Donizetti’s Linda, Desdemona, Lucia.” 

Matilde looked up at Serafin inquiringly. 

Albert burst out laughing. 

“ Do not laugh,” continued the artist. 

The truth is, I need a woman who would un- 
derstand my peculiarities, and foster my illu- 
sions, instead of withering them.” 

Matilde sighed. 

“ You deserve a serious answer,” said Albert, 
‘‘and I am going to give you one. I see that 
you are not so misguided as I at first believed. 
Our ideas seem to be almost similar. Never- 
theless, I will show you the difference between 
us, which is this : that although I do not love 
those women whom you detest (because, like 
you, it is impossible for me) ; yet I pay court 


The Last Act of Norma. 27 

to them at all hours. Do you know in what 
that consists ? It is to take them lightly ; to 
like them, without valuing them, and — all that 
follows.” 

“ But that is horrible,” exckimed Matilde. 

“And necessary,” added Albert. 

“Albert, you have no heart,” replied the 
young girl with extreme bitterness. 

Serafin commenced to cough. 

“My heart,” said Albert, “ought to be 
here,” putting his hand between his vest and 
shirt. “ I also have loved ; I do love, in a 
different way, but it is necessary to forget it, 
and confine myself to platonic affections, 
instead of those of the heart.” 

Matilde’s eyes met Albert’s. 

Serafin caught this glance and said : 

“ Matilde, would you have married Al- 
bert ?” 

“Never!” responded the young girl, sol- 
emnly and sadly. 

Albert laughed boisterously. 

admire your frankness,” he exclaimed. 

“ tee convinced, Albert,” said Serafin, “ you 


28 


Brunhilde^ or 


would make a wife very unhappy. You live 
either too much, or too little, always.” 

“ But you ought to know — ” exclaimed Al- 
bert. 

“I do know,” replied Serafin, “ that you 
loved my sister as much as I love you. Ma- 
tilde knew it also. But as she felt that she 
could not return that love, she begged that I 
might banish the thought from your brain, 
in order not to hurt you with a refusal. I 
would undoubtedly have lost my friendship 
for you, had you been the cause of sorrow 
to my sister, therefore I ended your dream ; 
and now, thank God, your caprice has 
passed, and Matilde is married. Let us be 
brothers.” 

The young girl filled the glasses and re- 
peated : “ Yes, be brothers ! ” 

They drank to it, and Albert, smothering a 
sigh, again smiled gayly. 

Presently he exclaimed : 

“ I just remember that I have fprgotten to be 
sad.” 


Interesting desire ! ” said Matilde. 


The Last Act of Norma. 29 

“Ah, my friends ! ” moaned Albert with af- 
fected melancholy, “ I am in love.” 

“ So you informed me this afternoon,” said 
Serafin. “Tell us about it.” 

“ Listen. Five days ago (because I have 
been five days in Seville, without suspecting 
that Matilde was living here), five days ago, 
the manager of the Principal Theatre here, 
where, as you know, there is an opera company 
at present, received a letter from his friend, the 
manager of the San Carlos Theatre in Lisbon, 
more or less to this effect : 

“‘My Dear Friend: When this letter 
reaches you, there will have arrived in Seville, 
a mysterious woman, of whose name and ante- 
ced^ts we are ignorant ; but a prima donna so 
wonderful, that for three nights she completely 
turned the heads of her audiences here. She 
sings from pure love of it, and always for the 
benefit of the poor. Until now, she has 
appeared only in Vienna, London and Lisbon, 
absolutely carrying away all who heard her ; be- 
cause, as I repeat, she is a marvel in art. The 


30 


Brunhilde^ or 


newspapers have christened her, The Daugh- 
ter of Heaven. If you choose to improve 
your time, which as you say will be short in 
that city, you may pass some divine mo- 
ments. 

“ ‘ I can tell you nothing further concerning her 
except to repeat what Dame Rumor has to say ; 
one says she is a Scandinavian Princess ; an- 
other that she is the niece of Beethoven ; but 
all are ignorant of the truth. 

“ ‘ What we all do know is that she has sung 
here in Somnambula, Beatrice and Lucia in a 
wonderful, incomparable, and almost supernat- 
ural manner. 

‘ Yours, etc.’ 

“ Imagine the effect of such a letter upon 
the manager. He ‘found the Unknown and so 
besought her to sing that last night she made 
her debut here in Lucrezia.” 

“You went, of course ? ” asked Serafin, who 
had been listening to his friend with intense in- 
terest. 

“ I did indeed.” 


The Last Act of Norma. 31 

“ And does she sing to-night ? ” 

“ She does.” 

“ Oh ! we must go by all means.” 

“ Certainly we will go. I have a box — sit 
down and I will continue.” 

“ But tell me first, what does she sing to- 
night ? ” 

“ Norma.” 

“ Magnificent ! ” exclaimed Serafin, clapping 
his hands. “ Tell me, my dear Albert, all that 
you know about her.” 

“ Well ! the long looked for hour arrived ; 
the theatre was packed to the roof, and I was 
nervously impatient, on a chair in the first row. 
Our friend Jose Mazzetti was to lead the or- 
chestra. While talking to him before the opera, 
he pointed to a proscenium box occupied by 
two persons. 

“ ‘ Who are they ? ' I asked, indifferently. 

“ ‘ They are the travelling companions of the 
Daughter of Heaven ; but no one knows the 
tie which binds them to the diva' 

“ I suppose it is unnecessary for me to tell 
you that I fixed my eyes on that box, and com- 


32 Brunhilde, or 

menced to devour the strangers with my opera- 
glass. 

“ One was leaning on the rail, the other re- 
mained at the back in semi-obscurity. 

“ The first was an old man, not five feet in 
height, fat, red, and bald, with very blue eyes. 
He was dressed strictly according to European 
etiquette. 

“ The other, young and elegant, was tall and 
a blonde ; but I could not well distinguish his 
features. He wore a white cape, of old Nor- 
wegian style ; and he did not sit down, nor 
did he move from the back of the box during 
the entire evening. From time to time he 
made use of a pair of black spectacles, the 
bright reflection of which lent something sinis- 
ter to his appearance. 

“ The opera commenced, — but as you are 
going yourself to-night, I will cut my story 
short, because it would be useless to attempt to 
give you an idea of the beauty I saw, and of 
the voice I heard.” 

“ Go on ! Go on ! ” said Serafin. 

“ You have it then in two words. She 


sang 


The Last Act of Nonna. 33 

as angels sing to God to praise Him ; as Satan 
ought to sing to men to tempt them. Oh ! you 
will hear her to-night.” 

“ And is it this stranger,” asked Serafin, with 
scarcely disguised annoyance, “ with whom you 
are in love? ” 

“Yes; with her!” answered Albert, glanc- 
ing at Matilde. 

That glance seemed almost a prayer. 

Matilde was still playing absently with a knife. 

“ My story is not yet finished,” continued 
Albert. “During the performance, there was 
a continual tempest of applause, of ‘ bravos,’ 
and ‘ huzzas,’ as well as a deluge of flowers, 
doves, laurels, and everything else expressive 
of enthusiasm. I distinguished myself more 
than anyone of this enraptured, enthusiastic 
crowd, by the wild manner in which I acted ; 
I yelled, I clapped, I cried, I jumped in my 
seat andxame very near throwing my hat in 
the air.” 

“ What absurd excess ! ” exclaimed Matilde. 

“ It is all true, nevertheless,” rejoined Albert 
with imperturbable coolness. 


v 


34 Briinhilde^ or 

“ The opera was over, and still I was listen- 
ing to that angel’s divine voice. The audience 
had left, and there I sat alone, until an usher 
notified me that I must leave. 

“ Instead of going home, I loitered around 
the stage door, waiting for the stranger to ap- 
pear. 

“ After some time she came, leaning on the 
old man’s arm, and followed by the younger 
one, of the Norwegian cloak. Their carriage 
was waiting a few steps off. I intended to fol- 
low them until they entered it ; but the younger 
man stopped, as if endeavoring to prevent me. 

“ I stopped also. 

“ Approaching me, and in a cold, calm voice, 
extremely brusque, and with a foreign accent, 
which I did not recognize, he said : ‘ Sir ! we 
live very far from here, and it would be a pity 
to tire your feet spying after us, after having 
so fatigued your hands applauding.’ 

“ And without waiting for a reply, he turned 
and entered the carriage. When I recovered 
myself, and thought of slapping the insolent 
fellow’s face, the carriage was going off at a gal- 


The Last Act of Norma. 


35 


lop ; seeing which, I returned home, with one 
love and one hate the more in my heart. 
What do you think of my adventure ? ” 

“ Delicious ! ” said Serafin. “ I am tempted 
to pursue it.” 

Matilde sighed with pleasure. 

“What? You intend to pursue it?” ex- 
claimed Albert. 

“Yes, sir; I feel that we are going to be 
rivals.” 

“ Ha, ha! You are excited already! Artis- 
tic love, I suppose? Then, sir, we will fight.” 

“First,” said Serafin, “let us go at once to 
find Jos^ Mazzetti.” 

“What for?” 

“ To induce him to feign illness — ” 

“ Ah ! you rascal, you wish to accompany 
the beauty’s trills and warblings with your 
violin.” 

“ Precisely.” 

“Then I must consider myself vanquished,” 
sighed Albert, comically, gazing at Matilde 
with adoration. “ With your violin in your 
hand, the Daughter of Heaven will applaud. 


3 ^ 


Brunhilde, or 


and perhaps even fall in love with you. Truly, 
I am unfortunate in love.” 

The two friends then rose from the table, 
and bade farewell to Matilde and her aunt, 
whose illness prevented their accompanying 
them. 

, “ On my return from the opera,” said Albert 
to Matilde, “ I will explain to you the great 
undertaking I have on hand. Until then, be 
content to know that to-morrow I leave for 
Cadiz, and the day after, for the end of the 
world.” 

“ I will tell you my plans also,'’ added Sera- 
fin. “ In the meanwhile, sister mine, know 
that I have come to Seville to take a long 
leave of you.” 

Matilde was sobbing. 


The Last Act of Norma, 


37 


CHAPTER V. 

THE ELOQUENCE OF A VIOLIN. 

LL was arranged according to Serafin’s 
wishes. Jose Mazzetti pretended to 
be ill, and excused himself to the 
manager, telling him that his friend, the cele- 
brated Vascongado, would lead the orches- 
tra that night, and the manager, who knew 
Serafin, cheerfully acquiesced. An hour later, 
our hero was occupying the desired post, from 
which he proposed to make an assault on the 
heart of the Daughter of Heaven. 

From the time that he entered the theatre, 
he did not cease to look about him for the 
two men who, according to Albert, always 
escorted the unknown “artiste.” 

He discovered them at last in the same 
proscenium box, and in the same position 
described by Albert : the little old dwarf in 




Brunhilde^ or 


38 

front, and the younger man, with his Norwe- 
gian mantle, half hidden in the shadow, be- 
hind. 

Albert moved impatiently to and fro in a 
box under the proscenium,' and was accompa- 
nied by another person, partly concealed by 
the curtains ; none other than Jose Mazzetti. 
How could the Italian deny himself the pleas- 
ure of listening again to the inspired singer ? 

Without further incident of interest to us, 
the opera commenced. The music rose and 
fell, filling the air with those divine harmonies 
which in the introduction of Norma im- 
press the audience with mysterious fear. 
Then, with that timid fascination peculiar to 
Bellini, pure and graceful accents broke forth 
from those sacred clouds like mystic sylphs 
from the obscurity of the enchanted forest. 

So passed the three scenes which preceded the 
entrance of Norma. Serafin, who knew the 
whole opera by heart, glanced at the box 
where the two men sat, which had from the 
first attracted him like a serpent, when all at 
once (but I will describe it. as did a cele- 


39 


The Last Act of Norma. 

brated novelist a short time ago) “ tliere 
glided through the air a sweet, soft, vague 
thing ; it was a breath, a melody, something 
even more divine.” It was the voice of the 
Daughter of Heaven. 

Surprised and agitated, Serafin fixed his 
eyes upon the stage. That voice whose magic 
timbre he had never heard, nor expected to 
hear from human throat, was deciding his 
earthly destiny. 

Nevertheless, he continued playing as though 
in a dream. When he had moderated that 
supreme emotion, and could contemplate the 
beauty of the Daughter of Heaven, he was 
dazzled, electrified, astonished ! 

Personify, in a girl of eighteen, all the de- 
lirium of Weber’s “ Last Thought.” Imagine 
an ideal beauty, indefinable as that which 
German poetry describes among the moon-lit 
mists of the North ; create a soft, white, lumi- 
nous form, like that of an angel descended 
from heaven, and you will hardly have an idea 
of the woman who sang in Norma that 
night. She was rather tall. Her wavy tresses 


40 


Brunhilde, or 


seemed a very wealth of gold, falling from an 
ivory forehead over her sculptured shoulders. 
In the shadow of long dark lashes slept melan- 
choly dreamy eyes, blue as the sky of Anda- 
lusia. The snowy .whiteness of her cheeks, 
warmed with delicate rose tints, was in deep 
contrast with the rich carmine of her lips, be- 
tween which, her beautiful teeth shone like 
the purest crystals. Her youthful figure, the 
dress of Norma, and the cloud of harmony 
which enveloped her, completed the fascinat- 
ing, celestial picture. 

Serafin was enraptured ; he felt his heart 
flutter, and turning towards his friend’s box 
told him in an eloquent glance, “ I am in love 
forever.” 

From the moment of the appearance of the 
Unknown, Albert had applauded continuously. 

What happiness for Serafin Arellano, to 
sustain that angelic voice with the harmony of 
his violin, when it was turned to that Heaven 
whence it had proceeded ! To descend with 
her when she left those heights ! To breathe 
or not, according as she sang or breathed ! 


The Last Act of Norma. 41 

To be there, subduing her by the influence 
of his bow, gazed at by those eyes, obeyed by 
that voice ! 

As could not fail to happen, the young girl 
soon recognized the marvellous genius of the 
new violinist ; a sympathetic current was soon 
established between the voice of the beautiful 
woman and that of the heavenly instrument, 
mutually aiding each other, becoming one, and 
falling united, upon the amazed and entranced 
hearers. 

Soon she took pleasure in contemplating 
the graceful musician, for he had moved her 
soul with the tones of his violin. The myste- 
rious woman must have seen the effect she 
was producing upon our hero, who, over- 
whelmed, subjugated, crazy, was embracing 
her with his great black eyes ; his noble brow 
radiant with genius, his lips half parted with 
an ineffable smile. 

She was finishing the sublime “ Casta Diva," 
and he took advantage of a moment when she 
was looking at him, to tell her, with his soul in 
his eyes, all that was passing in his heart. 


42 


Brunhilde^ or 


But this was not enough. 

He was inspired, and he dared ! 

By a very miracle of art, without neglecting 
for an instant that voice which soared above 
his head, his ardent glances said to that 
angel : 

“ Listen ! ” 

And he executed upon his violin, an air 
entirely distinct from that in the opera, giving 
to the improvisation all the frenzy of his mad- 
ness ; he made it vibrate in a delirium of ado- 
ration, and then, taking up her last sigh, 
concluded in the cadence of Bellini. 

The public immediately applauded Ser- 
afin. 

The fair Unknown understood all the elo- 
quence of that difficult variation ; saw the in- 
spiration on the musician’s brow ; divined his 
soul, and gazed at him in a manner so intense, 
so dazzling, that Serafin stood up, and sounded 
a thousand applauses with his violin. 

He was no longer the orchestral director ; 
he was the echo of the soprano, the half of her 
song — the song itself. 


The Last Act of Norma. 43 

Carried away by that excess of lyrical sub- 
limity, of wonderful inspiration, of artistic 
dementia, the Unknown gave to her voice an 
emotion so strange, a timbre so impassioned, 
that Serafin felt his heart expand in his throat, 
and the tears rush to his eyes. The frenzied 
and enthusiastic hearers who well understood 
the wave of sympathy between those two 
geniuses were gathering the spray of pearls 
which rose at the meeting of those two cas- 
cades of harmony, trembling, weeping and 
suppressing their cries of admiration. 

It was something never before seen nor 
heard : it was that apogee of joy, that fulness 
of poetry, that divine transport, that prophetic 
ecstasy, which on earth is called Bliss, and in 
Heaven, Beatitude. 

The young girl, seeing Serafin weep, smiled 
sweetly, and assuming an attitude of rapture, 
of tenderness, of gratitude, pointed to his 
tears, stretching her hand toward them as if 
she wished to wipe them away. 

He was ready to die ; to go mad, in truth. 

The violin had no phases with which to 


44 Brunhilde^ or 

answer her, nor his glance, expression more 
culminant. 

If he could but have sung! 

Norma left the stage, and returned, and 
amid a very tempest of applause sang the bril- 
liant “ Oh, di qual sei tu vittiina ! ” — and the 
act was over. Serafin fell back in his chair, as 
though Heaven had been snatched from his 
grasp. 


/ 




The Last Act of Norma, 


45 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE JEALOUS QUARTETTE. 

HE curtain had barely fallen, when 
Albert left his box in search of Sera- 
fi'n, who was coming up the stairs 
when they met. 

The musician remembering that Albert had 
said he also was in love with the unknown 
singer, shuddered when he pressed his hand : 
he felt in his heart a certain bitter and cor- 
rosive thing which made it an effort for him 
to smile. He was jealous of thatiove. 

“I am jealous,” said Albert, more affably 
than he felt. 

“Brother mine,” responded Serafin, “the 
half of my life to speak with that woman ! 
To live but an instant, so that in that instant 
she would tell me that she loved me ! Oh ! 
now I have realized the dream of my existence, 




46 


Briinhilde^ or 


I have found the woman for whom I have 
searched, my ideal of an ‘ artiste,’ my glory, 
my future, my destiny, all, all ! ” 

“ You love her already ? ” 

“Already! No, my friend. I have loved 
her for years ; I have loved her since I was 
born ; I had imagined her before I saw her ; 
I lived adoring her: now, I have seen her, and 
I feel what I never felt before, that which 
makes a man of me, that which gives me 
heart, that which constitutes me an artist. I 
love 1 I love that woman ! ” 

“ Well,” replied Albert, “ I am quite sure 
that she appreciated your feelings. You are — 
but never mind, do not be disturbed if I 
decline to tell you. Really though, it is I who 
should be rabidly, terribly jealous.” 

“ Albert 1 ” 

“ Serafin ! But devil take it ! I am not 
going to reproach you because you may have 
pleased her more than I. Besides, you know 
that my heart beats alone and only for another 
woman, of whose love you have also deprived 
me. There is something you do not seem to 


The Last Act of Norma. 47 

know ; but the truth is there is another man 
more jealous than either of us.” 

“Who? Mazzetti?” 

“ He too ; but it is the jealousy of an artist. 
He is jealous of your violin, of the ovation 
you received to-night. I do not refer to him.” 

“ Who then?” 

“To that presumptuous individual,” said 
Albert, indicating the man with the white 
cloak, whose box was visible through the half- 
open door of another. “ He has been staring 
at you through the entire act. Contrary to his 
usual custom, he came to the front of the box, 
and fixed upon you a pair of very cunning 
eyes, not such as would petrify like those of 
Medusa, but capable, like the polar wind, of 
freezing the blood in one’s veins.” 

“ We must unravel the mystery which sur- 
rounds this family, and discover what connec- 
tion exists between this man and the Daughter 
of Heaven,” said Serafin, after a moment’s 
reflection. 

^‘You do not know' it, but this is the last 
night that our goddess sings,” replied his friend. 


48 


Brunhilde^ or 


What ! was it not announced that she 
would sing to-morrow in Somnambula?” 

“Yes, but she leaves Seville to-morrow.” 

“ For where ? ” 

“ I believe she goes to Madrid.” 

“ Who told you this ? ” 

“ I heard it in the foyer.” 

“ Where does she live here ? Where is she 
stopping? ” 

; Ah ! that the manager alone knows, and 
he^ has promised to tell no one, in order that 
she may be spared the impertinences of enthu- 
siasts like ourselves.” 

‘^Bosh!” 

At this moment the bell sounded, warning 
the orchestra that the second act was about to 
commence. 

“ I will see you after the performance. 
Wait for me with Mazzetti at the entrance,” 
said Serafin. “ To-night we must know who 
this fellow is with the white mantle.” 

“Very well,” responded Albert, turning 
toward his box, while the musician returned to 
his place in the orchestra. 


The Last Act of Norma. 


49 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE LAST ACT OF NORMA. 

curtain rose, and the unknown 
appeared. Serafi'n glanced 
toward the box occupied by the two 
mysterious persons, but they were not there. 

He turned his eyes to the stage, and sur- 
prised a glance directed toward him by the 
Daughter of Heaven. 

Every one knows the terrible story of the 
first scene of the second act, where Norma, the 
frail priestess, is about to kill her sons in order 
to efface the proofs of her sacrilegious love. 
That beautiful and inspired woman inter- 
preted the dark and horrible thoughts of the 
jealous Druidess with a song alternately sav- 
age, tender and m.elancholy, coming through 
contracted lips from a convulsed breast, as 
though she herself might be the living statue 


50 


Brunhilde^ or 


of the implacable Medea. The public, im- 
pressed by the horror of the situation, was so 
still, attentive, immovable, that one could 
have heard the falling of a leaf in the midst of 
those awed spectators. 

But when the heart of the mother responded 
to the cry of nature, which appealed to her in 
the sighs of her children ; when the throat of 
that woman modulated with the divine accents 
of love for those little ones, and horror for the 
crime she had conceived ; when that fearful 
and convulsed face changed to maternal ten- 
derness and was illumined with the flame of 
virtue ; finally, when she threw away the 
murderous dagger, then, the theatre trem- 
bled with a universal murmur, a unanimous 
applause, a burst of “ vivas " and “ bravos ” 
which deafened the air for a long time. 

But why should I tire the reader by the 
relation of the marvellous gifts which that 
woman displayed, or of the emotions experi- 
enced by Serafin ? 

I will tell you only of the end of the opera. 

The Daughter of Heaven appreciated 


The Last Act of Norma. 51 

fully all the beauties of those last arias, in 
which love for a man overcomes the love of 
life, maternal love, and all other human senti- 
ment, and thus it was, that, elevat*ed by 
an inspiration truly sublime, she made her 
audience experience inexplicable sorrows and 
delights. Serafin was not in the world. He 
floated in the highest heaven with those songs, 
and at the same time drifted in a sea of mel- 
ancholy. 

In the midst of his madness, however, he 
remembered that that room, now full of 
those angelic accents, was soon to be deserted ; 
that Norma was about to die ; that the 
opera ws terminating ; that the enchantment 
was abou| to end ; and the voice of the beau- 
tiful girl sounded to him as the echo of a 
memory from the depths of the soul. He 
continued playing his violin ; but mechan- 
ically, as an automaton, a somnambulist. 

She did not remove her blue eyes from the 
dark ones of the musician. She said “ fare- 
well ” to him in all the notes she was articu- 
lating ; ‘‘ farewell ” repeated her saddened 


52 


Brunhilde^ or 


face ; “ farewell ” cried her hands, crossed in 
desperation. Instead of taking leave of life, 
it seemed as though Norma were taking leave 
of Serafin. 

After that, the brilliant light of that silver 
lamp faded, that dream of glory vanished, that 
meteor passed away, that aroma evaporated ; 
the flower folded, the dream was over, and the 
curtain fell. 


The Last Act of Norma. 


53 


CHAPTER VIII. 


ALBERT S PISTOLS PART COMPANY. 



ALF an hour later, at a quarter to 
twelve, our three friends, Serafin, 
Albert and Jose Mazzetti, met in the 
vestibule of the theatre, and there awaited the 
exit of the three strangers. 

“ I do not want any scandal,” said Sera- 
fi'n. 


“ No, we will kill him, sotto vocef replied 
Albert. 

“ I do not desire to have him killed, nor 
that you should concoct any scheme that 
might compromise her.” 

“ What do you want then ? ” 

“ To speak with that man.” 

“You ought not to speak to him,” inter- 
posed Mazzetti. “ War is war. He is your 
rival ; you should not offer to parley.’* 



54 


Brunhilde^ or 


“ There is a way,” said Albert, mysteriously, 
muffling himself up to his eyes. 

“ What is it ? ” 

“ This — first, what do you wish to avoid ? ” 

“That she should form a bad opinion of me, 
because I provoke a quarrel on her account.” 

“ Very well ! Then as I am not you, and as 
these blondes are ignorant of our friendship, 
and finally as I am master of my own actions, 
it follows that what would be bad form in you, 
is good form in me. Consequently I am the 
one to seek out your rival. I will speak with 
him, and if necessary, I will break his head. 
The devil ! You will see how 1 will break it.” 

“ What madness ! ” 

“ It may be. But you go home, and Maz- 
zetti, you follow me.” 

“ But — ” 

“ Never mind the ‘ buts.’ You have a sister 
to think of — I have no one in the world.” 

“But—” 

“ That’s enough.” 

Serafin, knowing well Albert’s obstinate dis- 
position, agreed that his plan was logical and 


The Last Act of Norma. 55 

right — to a certain point. But he had no in- 
tention of going home. 

He took leave of his friends ; and after walk- 
ing a short distance concealed himself in a 
door-way in order to see what occurred. 

Albert, wiser from his last night’s experience, 
had a carriage in readiness, which he entered 
with Mazzetti. 

“ We can observe from here without being 
seen,” he whispered, closing the windows. 

Then Serafin, cautiously approaching the 
driver from the other side of the carriage, gave 
him a dollar, and said : — 

“ Make room for me. I will drive and you 
can play footman.” 

The coachman agreed without hesitation. 

The singer’s carriage was but a few steps off. 

The ambuscade was complete. 

Only a few moments elapsed before the 
young girl and her companions appeared, en- 
tered their carriage, and were driven off at a 
trot. 

The three friends followed in theirs at an 
equal pace. 


56 


Brunhilde^ or 


They crossed streets and squares, then more 
squares and more streets, crossing and recross- 
ing until they finally left the city. 

“ The devil ! ” ejaculated Albert. 

‘‘They must live on board some ship,” said 
Jos^ Mazzetti. 

They reached the Guadalquivir, and the 
carriage, containing the Unknown, drew up at 
the very edge of the water. 

Our friends saw by the light of the moon, a 
luxurious gondola coming up-stream towards 
that point. 

Albert’s carriage had stopped a little dis- 
tance behind. 

Serafin jumped from the box and hid behind 
a tree. 

Albert, after examining his pistols, told Maz- 
zetti to remain in the carriage, and walked 
slowly towards the river. 

The gondola had come alongside. The old 
man assisted the Daughter of Heaven to 
alight, and gave her his hand to the embark- 
ing point. 

The youth with the Norwegian cloak did 


The Last Act of Norma. 57 

not alight. Albert stood by the door of the 
carriage. 

The old man and young girl had hardly 
stepped aboard, when the gondola was rowed 
out into the current, and soon disappeared be- 
low the Triana bridge. 

Then the carriage door again opened and 
the hated stranger made his appearance. 

“ Two words,” said Albert, in French, step- 
ping up to him. 

“ I remained behind, in order to hear them,” 
replied he, with the greatest calmness. 

“ Let us move away from these carriages.” 

“ As you please.” 

They walked along the upper bank until 
they were out of hearing. 

“ This will do,” said Albert. 

The other halted. 

“You were following me,” he said, with per- 
fect tranquillity. 

“ I have caught you at last,” replied Albert, 
in an altered voice. 

“ That remains to be seen. Speak ! ” added 
the mysterious man. 


58 


Brunhilde, or 


Our friend regarded him a moment. 

The stranger was tall, pale and delicate, ex- 
tremely blonde, with a cold glance and ironical 
smile : a man in fact whose aspect disconcerted 
one and inspired distrust. 

“Are you armed?” asked Albert. 

“ No,” answered the young blonde. 

“ I am,” said our friend, drawing his two 
pistols from his pocket and placing them 
upon the ground. 

His companion remained immovable. 

“ Who are you ? ” said Albert, his eyes flash- 
ing with anger. 

“ What is that to you ? ” responded the 
stranger. 

“ Much; for I hate you.” 

The stranger’s smile increased. 

“ What is that to me ? replied he, after a 
moment. 

“ But you recognize me ? ” 

“ Yes, I recognize you : you are employed in 
the Theatre in Seville, and your office 
is to applaud and shout.” 

“ Exactly ! ” answered Albert, growing paler 


The Last Act of Norma. 59 

every moment. “ Do you know also that I 
love the Daughter of Heaven?” 

“ I suspected as much.” 

“ And you are jealous, are you not ? ” 

“ In my own fashion.” 

“ And what right have you to be ? Are you 
her husband or her lover ? ” 

“ What if I should be one or the other? ” 

“ Then we will kill each other,” answered 
Albert, seizing one pistol and designating the 
other to the stranger. 

“ Kill me then,” said he, crossing his 
arms. 

I am no assassin,” said Albert, defend 
yourself ! ” 

“You wish a duel?” 

-Yes.” 

“Very well,” answered the stranger, in an 
imperturbable tone. 

“ Well ! Let us commence.” 

“ No, not now.” 

“ What ! Why not ? ” 

“ Because it does not suit me to fight when 
it suits you.” 


6o 


Brunhilde^ or 


‘‘Magnificent, my dear sir. Then may I 
ask what you understand by a duel ? 

“ I understand what a challenge is and I 
have already accepted yours, but I will not 
fight solely to comply with your whim.” 

So saying, he flung the pistol Albert offered 
him out into the middle of the river. 

Albert hesitated for a moment ; then said : 

“ Do you prefer other weapons? The sabre, 
foil or sword, all are the same to me.” 

“ I prefer the pistol — within a year.” 

“A year!” 

“ Neither more nor less.” 

“ Why ? In order to become expert in it’s 
use ?” 

“ I am an excellent shot,” said the stranger, 
“ and if I did not fear attracting the police I 
would cut that flower from its stem at the 
first shot.” 

“ Well, then — ” 

“ Do not persist, nor attribute my postpone- 
ment to cowardice. Within a year from this 
day and hour, at this same place, we will fight. 
Before that it would be madness in me.” 


The Last Act of Norma. 6i 

Why?” 

“ Because for four years I have been striving 
to succeed in a project, the happy results of 
which I shall soon attain ; consequently I do 
not wish to expose myself to death without 
experiencing that felicity.” 

“ But — ” 

“Enough!” exclaimed the stranger in a 
graver voice than he had hitherto used. 
“ That is all I have to say. I take my leave 
of you for a year. If you wish to strike me in 
the back of course you can do so,” and wrap- 
ping himself in his cloak, and touching his hat 
to Albert, he turned and started to walk 
toward the Triana bridge. 

He had gone but a few paces when Albert 
emerged from the shadow intending to follow 
him. 

A hand grasped his and a voice behind him 
called to him to “ stop ! ” 

Albert turned around, surprised. 


62 


Brunhilde^ or 


CHAPTER IX. 


GOOD-BYE. 


m 


T was Serafin. 

“ I have heard 
terly. 


all,” said he, bit- 


“ Why, where were you 
‘* Behind those trees.” 

“ A good fright you have given me,” ex- 
claimed Albert, recovering from his surprise. 
“Well!” 


“ Well — He will escape me. Let me 

go-” 

“ Let him go.” 

“ What \ ” 

“ What do you intend to do ? Murder 
him ? ” 

“ No, sir, but make him fight.” 

“ It is useless ; that man must be an En- 
glishman, and he will not change his mind.” 




The Last Act of Nonna, 63 

“ By Heavens ! ” cried Albert, “ I swear to 
you by my soul that within a year I shall have 
stretched him out on these rushes, or I will 
have ceased to exist.’' 

“Yes; but meanwhile — ” He did not 
finish the sentence. 

“ Meanwhile,” said Albert, “ you must fol- 
low her wherever she goes.” 

“ How can I follow her?” 

“With my entire fortune. To-morrow I 
will sell all my plantations.” 

“ It would be in vain. We must resign our- 
selves. To-morrow, they say, she goes to 
Madrid, and we leave for Cadiz, you to em- 
bark for the Pole, and I for Italy.” 

“ You give her up ? ” 

“ I do not wish to struggle against fate. 
That woman, so beautiful, must have an 
owner. Who knows ? Perhaps one of those 
men is her husband ! Why make myself more 
unhappy than I am ? Besides, I have written 
to Italy, and they expect me. You know that 
my journey is not alone for pleasure. On it 
depends my future and that of my family. I 


64 


Brunhilde, or 


am afraid of myself. Far better for me to fly 
from this woman.’’ 

“ As you wish, Serafin ; but I will follow her 
to the end of the world.” 

“Norma,” murmured the musician, sadly 

“ Will you accompany me ? ” 

For answer, Serafin embraced his friend. 

“ Magnificent ! ” exclaimed Albert. “ Now, 
sir, we must commence operations.” 

“How?” 

“ Come with me.” 

They walked back to the carriage which had 
brought them. 

“ And Mazzetti ? ” asked Serafin. 

“ He is asleep inside there,” answered his 
friend who understood the quiet Italian’s char- 
acter. They turned and went down the 
river. 

“ Where are we going ? ” said Serafin. 

“ I shall know that in a moment myself,” 
answered Albert. 

They arrived at the wharf, where some sail- 
ors were sleeping beside their boats. 

Albert called out, “ Paco, Paco, Paco ! ” 


The Last Act of Norma. 65 

A youth ran up to him, rubbing his eyes. 

“ What is it, sir,” he exclaimed on seeing 
Albert. 

“Tell me from which ship that decorated 
gondola came that I just saw up the river?” 

“ From a small Norwegian that arrived three 
days ago,” answered the sailor. 

“Good!” exclaimed Albert. “And do 
you know when it leaves Seville ? ” 

“ Just as you called me, sir, I had started to 
turn in after watching her depart.” 

“ What 1 ” 

“Yes, sii% it is but five minutes since she 
raised her anchor. Look, sir I You can still 
see the smoke. She runs well, the little 
midget.” 

Serafin moved off, muttering a terrible 
oath. 

“ We must overtake her,” said Albert. 

“ Impossible,” said the sailor. “ Who could 
overhaul a steamer with sails, favored by the 
tide besides ? ” 

“ Enough ! ” exclaimed Serafin, quietly and 
decidedly. 


66 


Briinhilde, or 


Albert gave the sailor some money and fol- 
lowed his friend without a word. 

They returned to the carriage where they 
found Mazzetti searching for them, evidently 
much alarmed. 

“What has happened?’’ he asked, after 
noting Serafin’s presence with surprise. 

“ Nothing,” said Serafin. 

“You have given me a good fright,” said 
Mazzetti. “ Half an hour ago, I saw the fel- 
low with the white cloak hurrying this way, 
alone. At that point of the shore, he hastily 
threw pff his cloak and plunged into the 
river.” 

“ What do you mean? He has committed 
suicide ?” exclaimed Serafin, recovering from 
his stupor. 

“ Nothing of the kind. He swam like a 
duck, and disappeared through one of the 
arches of the bridge.” 

“ That man is the devil himself,” burst out 
Albert. 

“ Perhaps you invoked him with your favor- 
ite expression,” replied Mazzetti. 


The Last Act of Norma. 


67 


“ Come ! Let us be off,” said Seraffn. 

“ But tell me all about it,” added the 
Italian. 

“ Total — nothing,” responded Albert. 

“ Matilde will be waiting for us,” exclaimed 
Serafin. 

“ Come along, then,” said Albert, recovering 
his good humor at this idea. 

They entered the carriage, bade good-night 
to Mazzetti as they left him at his house, and 
then drove to Matilde’s. She was waiting for 
them. 

Her eyes were red and swollen. 

“ She has been crying,” thought Seraffn. 

“Are you very sleepy? ” said Albert. 

“ I will tell you all in two words,” said Sera- 
ffn, fearing some imprudence on the part of 
his friend. 

“ I will tell you in one,” exclaimed Albert. 
“Seraffn loves the Daughter of Heaven: I 
have given her up to him the said goddess 
has escaped us, and you are more beautiful 
than she and all the other women in the 
world.” 


68 


Brunhilde^ or 


Matilde smiled with happiness like the 
moon when she comes out from behind the 
clouds. 

“ Norma ! ” exclaimed Serafin, with emo- 
tion. 

“ The devil ! We will not think of her. 
She has gone, — so have patience. Imag- 
ine that you have dreamed. You are going 
away ; 1, too ; and we will all forget each 
other, as is customary among even better 
friends. Am I not right, Matilde ? ” 

“ Where are you going? ” she asked. 

“ I am going to Italy,” said Serafin. “ I 
came to Seville to say good-bye to you and 
our good aunt.” 

“ To Italy ! ” exclaimed Matilde. 

“ Do not be alarmed about that,” said 
Albert. “ Italy is only around the corner. 
But I — I am going to the Pole.” 

“ To the Pole ! ” said Matilde, breathlessly. 

“ It is true,” affirmed Serafin. 

“You are going to your death,” murmured 
Matilde with real terror. 

“Well,” replied Albert, “of what conse- 


The Last Act of Norma. 69 

quence is that to you ? Are you not married? 
but tell me, a propos of that, what is your hus- 
band’s name ? ” 

Matilde glanced quickly at Serafin. 

“ What a fellow you are!” interrupted the 
musician, addressing Albert. “You talk of a 
thousand things at once.” And pinching his 
arm, he reminded him of his promise to leave 
Matilde in peace. 

It- was already two o’clock, when Matilde 
bade them good-night, saying she would rise 
early to wish them bon voyage. She did not 
go to bed however. 

In the morning, on the floor beside her desk, 
there were at least a dozen sheets of paper 
torn to bits. There had been as many let- 
ters written and destroyed during that 
night. 

The result of all those efforts was a little 
note which she slipped into Albert’s hand as 
she wished him “ good-morning.” On the en- 
velope were these words : 

“Do not read until after you have left.” 

Matilde was blushing like a rose. 


70 ^ Brunhilde, or 

Albert felt a peculiar palpitation in his heart 
which he well knew , a very intermittent palpi- 
tation, which he had experienced only three or 
four times in his life and always when near 
Matilde ; but a palpitation most profound, for 
it came from a true love ; a true love, deeply 
hidden in Albert’s heart amongst frivolities 
and caprices; a love as pure as a hidden 
spring, whose virgin waters no lip has ever 
tasted, a love ready to overflow at any. mo- 
ment, as had just happened with the passions 
of Serafin. 

It was now half-past six and the Rapid 
left at seven. Albert and Serafin took leave 
of the old lady and went down the stairs 
accompanied by Matilde. 

At the doorway they embraced each other 
tenderly. 

Good-bye ! ” said Serafin. 

“Good-bye!” murmured Matilde, bathed in 
tears. 

“ Good-bye, Matilde. I love you,” whis- 
pered Albert to her. 

“ Good-bye, Albert I ” exclaimed Matilde, 


The Last Act of Norma. 71 

taking refuge again in the arms of her brother, 
who kissed her on the brow. 

“ Good-bye ! ” they all said again, and then 
finally separated, waving their handkerchiefs 
until they passed out of sight, mutely repeat- 
ing: 

“ Good-bye ! Good-bye ! Good-bye ! ” 

At the same time Albert was kissing Ma- 
tilde’s letter. 


72 


Brunhilde, or 


% 


CHAPTER X. 

ONE FOR LAPLAND, THE OTHER FOR ITALY ; 
THEN ONE FOR ITALY AND THE OTHER 
FOR LAPLAND. 

HERE are our friends! They are on 
deck. Do you see them? 

Ah ! but it is unfair to watch them 

now. 

Tlie Rapid \vz.s, just rounded a point in the 
river. 

Only a column of smoke remains. 

In a moment, that also disappears. 

Bon voyage ! 

* * -H- * * * * 

Albert and Serafin were flying down the river 
on the wings of steam. 

As soon as the last tower of Seville had 
passed out of sight, each drew a deep sigh and 
descended into the after-cabin. 



73 


The Last Act of Norma. 

There they seated themselves face to face, 
resting their elbows on the round table be- 
tween them, and with their heads on their 
hands, commenced to think. 

Albert had read Matilde’s letter. 

This was what it contained : 

“ Albert : Before reading further, swear to 
me that you will continue your journey, as 
though you had not received this letter.” 

“ I swear it,” murmured he, and continued 
reading. 

“ I love you. One word more, and I am 
through. 

“ Matilde Arellano will never forget her 
duties as a wife.” 

Ten thousand devils! ! I ” exclaimed Albert 
to himself, and then commenced to reflect. 

“ She loves me and tells me so ! ” he thought. 
“ I love her and have told her so ! But ‘ she 
will never forget her duties as a wife.’ Then 


74 


Brunhilde, or 


why does she love me ? and above all, why 
does she tell me so ? She loves me ! It is 
true! Fool that I was, not to have guessed it! 
I, who worship her ! who always looked upon 
her as so different from all other women ! who 
would be so happy by her side ! I — who am 
going to the Pole ! But what can it be to me 
if she is married ? It makes Serafin more than 

my friend he is my brother. I must 

sacrifice myself as she is doing — I must live 
like Tantalus! I must die without possessing 
happiness, knowing where it is to be found. 

“ Oh, Matilde ! Matilde ! Why have you 
told me that you love me? Your confession 
has deprived me of all future peace ! ” 

Concerning Serafin, here are his thoughts. 

“Norma! Norma! Lost forever! That 
fellow at her side must be her husband or 
her lover to be so jealous ! And I, who was 
so happy yesterday because I had saved 
twenty-five hundred dollars with which to real- 
ize the dream of my life — my trip to Italy — 
am to-day so wretched, when about to start, 
through madness for a woman, who comes from 


75 


The Last Act of Norma. 

I know not where, and goes, I know not 
whither. Ah ! I have lost her forever ! for- 
ever ! ” 

******* 

They arrived at Cadiz. 

Their first act was to search the wharves to 
discover if the little steamer was in port, which 
left Seville in the middle of the night carrying 
off the Daughter of Heaven. 

It was not only not there, but upon making 
inquiries they found from some sailors that it 
had arrived at eleven in the morning, had re- 
mained an hour or two in port, and had then 
left for the Strait of Gibraltar. 

“ That is the road you take,” said Albert to 
Serafin, who had not uttered a word, but had 
simply listened and sighed. “Tell me,” con- 
tinued Albert addressing a sailor, “ which is 
the Swedish brig which sails for Lapland to- 
morrow ? ” 

“ There she lies,” he answered, pointing 
to a narrow bark of peculiar shape, which 
looked like a fast sailer and was still in the 
offing. 


76 


Brunhilde^ or 


“ At what hour does she sail ? ” 

“ To-night at eight o’clock.” 

“ To-night ! ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Oh ! there is no time to lose. Do you 
know where one may secure passage on her?” 

“ Nowhere.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” 

“ What I say. That ship is not a regular 
liner. They say she belongs to a Russian gen- 
tleman. She is a yacht.” 

^‘The devil! Here’s my plan knocked in 
the head ! ” exclaimed Albert. 

“ What is that ? ” asked Serafin. 

Oh, nothing ! except that I have no ship to 
take me to the Pole. The devil ! when shall I 
ever have another chance like this?” 

“ There is a way to arrange it all,” said a 
seaman. 

“ Cost what it may,” Albert hurried to 
reply. 

Where do you live ? ” 

“ Number 25, calle de Cobos,” said Serafin. 

Are you rich ? ” 


The Last Act of Norma. 


77 


“ Let it cost what it will,” repeated Albert. 

“I understand, sir; make yourself easy. It 
is now four in the afternoon. At seven you 
will have passage on that bark.” 

“ You are a gentleman ! ” exclaimed Albert. 

The sailor left them. 

Wait,” said Serafin. 

The sailor turned, cap in hand. 

“ I want passage for Italy.” 

“ When?” 

“ At once.” 

The sailor thought a moment. 

“ Do you wish to leave to-night ? ” 

“Yes,” interrupted Albert. “We could 
then sail at the same hour.” 

“ Let it be to-night then,” interposed Sera- 
fin. 

“Do you live with this gentleman?” said 
the sailor to Serafin. 

“ Yes ; calle de Cobos. But this gentle- 
man lives with me,” said Serafin ; “ ask for 
me.” 

“ All right ! you will have the two tickets at 
the same hour, for there is a French bark 


yS Brunhilde^ or 

which also sails at sunset with a cargo for 
Venice.” 

The sailor saluted again and left them. 

But they had not walked four steps when 
they heard him call to them ; 

“And the names? I need the names to 
get the tickets.” 

The young men gave him their cards. 

He went off, looking at the cards and repeat- 
ing, so that he should not forget : 

“ This one for Italy, and this one for Lap- 
land ; this one for Lapland, and this one for 
Italy.” 


The Last Act of Norma, 


79 


CHAPTER XL 

NOAH’S EXAMPLE FOLLOWED. 

ERAFIN’S residence and Albert’s tem- 
porary stopping place, No. 25 calle de 
Cobos, was a kind of hotel. 

The two friends walked there in a sad and 
crestfallen mood. 

How shall we pass the time ? ” asked Sera- 
fin. 

“ What is the hour? ” replied Albert. 

“ Half-past four. In three hours that man 
will bring us our tickets and at eight we sail.” 

“ So we have three hours to dispose of.” 

How shall we employ them ? ” 

“ I don’t know.” 

Nor I.” 

“ Well, then, the best thing to do is to dine 
and endeavor to amuse ourselves a little.” 

In what way ? ” 



8o 


Brunhildey or 


Get drunk, I meant to say.” 

“ What for ? ” 

First, in order to forget the Daughter of 
Heaven.” 

“ Ah ! ” sighed the musician. 

“ Second, to forget Matilde.” 

“ And third ? ” Serafin asked, hurriedly. 

“ To forget ourselves.” 

“True! let us try to forget for the moment. 
Waiter! ” 

“ Sir,” answered a voice at the door of the 
room. 

“ Hello, Juan ! ” 

“ You returned soon, sir ! ” 

“ And I leave as soon ; to-night I am going 
away for three months. Order us a good din- 
ner, with the best wines you have. At seven 
a sailor will call for us. Let him enter. If we 
drink too much, see that all our luggage is put 
aboard ship ; and, if you see that it is necessary 
go with us.” 

“ Magnificently planned ! ” exclaimed Albert, 
clapping his hands. “ Be sure to have Ma- 
deira ; that is my one amendment,” 


The Last Act of Norma. 8i 

Two hours later, the same youth was saying 
as he stupidly gazed at a glass of sherry he 
held in his hand : 

“ Noah was a great man ! ’* 

Serafin was melancholy. 

“Do you know that I love Matilde?’’ 
said Albert, whose speech was growing 
thick. 

“ Will you be quiet ? ” said the musician 
sharply. 

“ I love her,” repeated Albert, “ yet I fly 
from her because — in fact — you are the cause ! 
I love her, do you understand f as I have never 
loved before.” 

“ What does it matter to me ? ” replied Sera- 
fi'n, who was about half-seas-over and was 
thinking only of the unknown beauty. 

“ It is of no consequence to you. Suppose 
she loves me ? ” 

“ Marry and end the matter. Yes — 
that’s it — . Tra — la — ra — la — ra — .” And 
Serafin commenced singing an air from 
Norma. 

“Marry her? I!” exclaimed Albert, not 


82 Brunhilde^ or 

daring to believe what he heard. “ But is she 
not married ? ” 

“ Ha, ha, ha! ” exclaimed Serafi'n. “ Mar- 
ried 1 Ha, ha, ha I ” Albert trembled at that 
laugh. 

That nervous laugh, caused by last night’s 
excitement and the wine combined, had some- 
thing of madness in it and madmen generally 
speak the truth. Imagine then the anxiety 
with which Matilde’s lover shook his friend, 
saying to him : 

“ Serafi'n, Serafin ! Be quiet. (Devil ! If 
he does not tell me now, he will go to Italy 
and I shall never know it.) Answer me, Sera- 
fin, is she married ? ” 

Serafin sobered a little, heard his friend’s 
question, comprehended that he had been in- 
discreet, and answered humorously: 

“Yes, sir — married to Polonius, or about the 
same ! Ah ! ‘ non volerli vittime.’ ” 

“ I am not talking about Norma ; I am speak- 
ing of Matilde.” 

“ ‘Dil mio fatal errore,’ ” Serafin continued 
singing. 


The Last Act of Norma. 83 

“ Devils and demons ! exclaimed Albert, 
“ he has lost his senses. Ah ! and I also,” he 
added, perceiving that he himself was begin- 
ning to feel sick. 

The two friends sat looking at each other 
solemnly, their elbows resting on the table. 

“ We are cheerful,” stuttered Serafin. 

“ That is to say we are exactly the reverse,” 
replied Albert. 

“ I have tokl you — something?” asked the 
musician. 

“ About — what ?” 

“ About — nothing,” replied Serafin. 

Albert felt more confused than ever. 

“ Listen — ” added Serafin after a moment, 
in an intoxicated, husky voice. “ When you 
return from the Pole, I shall have returned 
from Italy — understand? — Look for me 
here — in Cadiz, in Seville, or in the infer- 
nal regions — and then we will talk of my 
sister.” 

“ Oh, don’t drink any more,” cried Albert, 
snatching a bottle from Serafin’s hand. “ Ex- 
plain this mystery about Matilde ! ” 


84 


Brunhilde, or 


“ Nothing, nothing! Oh, go to the Pole! I 
hope it will be your last voyage.” 

A horrible suspicion flashed through Albert’s 
disturbed imagination. 

“Does Matilde regret some error? Tell 
me, Serafin ! ” 


“ ‘ Moriamo insieme, 

Ah ! si, moriamo.’” 

sang the musician, his hilarity returning. 

“ You are very cruel ! ” exclaimed Albert. 

And despairing of discovering the truth, he 
swallowed another bottle of sherry, which en- 
tirely bereft him of his senses. 

Serafin was completely overcome. 

At this moment Juan entered with the 
sailor, who brought them their tickets. He 
proceeded to remove the luggage, and the lat- 
ter, addressing Serafin, said : 

“ Sir, here is your ticket for Lapland. And 
this man is sent to collect the money,” contin- 
ued he, pointing to a fat, little, red-haired man 
who stood in the doorway. 

“ Have you brought — ” said Albert. 


The Last Act of Norma. 85 

“ It is six hundred and eighty-seven dollars 
and fifty cents.*' 

“ The Leviathan ! A pretty name, brother- 
in-law ! ” exclaimed Serafin. 

“ Six hundred and eighty-seven dollars and 
fifty cents,” repeated the sailor. “ And the 
other, two hundred and twelve dollars.” 

“Take it and shut up,” said Juan, helping 
Albert and Serafin to count out the money. 

The fat, little man came forward and took 
it. 

On seeing him, Serafin actually started with 
astonishment, but soon perceiving the general 
vulgarity of the man, his weather-beaten hands 
and coarse red hair he said to himself : 

“ What nonsense ! it cannot be the same old 
bear who was with the Daughter of Heaven, 
though the type is certainly the same.” 

The old man departed. 

Albert was talking with Juan, to whom he 
gave the tickets and the passports. 

“You look out for everything,” said he. 
“ We are not quite ourselves, as perhaps you 
perceive. In fact, we are, for the first time 


86 


Brunhilde, or 


in our lives (keep it to yourself now), you 
have so often been. See? Ah! Viva Amon- 
tillado, Pedro Jimenez 1 Viva Seraffn, the 
Daughter of Heaven, and you, my demon in 
the white cloak! Viva! Viva, you rogues!’' 

It was half-past seven. 

‘‘ Come, gentlemen,” said the sailor, “ there 
is no time to lose. I had plenty of trouble in 
fooling the captain of the Leviatha^i into tak- 
ing a passenger aboard. I had to tell him that 
you were a political refugee. Come ! My 
boats will take you to your respective ships.” 

Albert and Serafin were not listening to 
him, but were stumbling around the room, 
preparing to leave with the assistance of the 
hotel waiter. 

As* soon as they were ready, Juan gave an 
arm to one and the sailor took care of the 
other. 

So they passed down to the street, where 
fortunately a carriage was awaiting them. 

They reached the pier. 

In the distance there were five ships ready 
to set sail. 


The Last Act of Norma. 87 

A whole fleet of boats and launches were 
transferring passengers from the shore. 

Serafin had fixed his gaze upon the water, 
now silvered by the twilight. The movement 
of the waves increased his dizziness. 

All at once he shrieked out so fearfully that 
Albert and the sailors crowded around him in 
astonishment. 

“She! Norma!” exclaimed the musician, 
pointing to a gondola, that at that moment 
was leaving the steps of the wharf. 

Albert looked in that direction and saw the 
Daughter of Heaven standing under a silken 
awning in a gondola similar to that they had 
seen in Seville. 

At her side was the same little, bald blonde. 

The four oarsmen looked very much like 
him, and also like the man who had collected 
the money from Albert for the ticket for Lap- 
land. 

The younger one of the white mantle was 
neither in the gondola nor on the pier. 

“Norma! Norma!” Serafin continued to 


cry. 


88 


Brunhilde, or 


The Unknown waved her handkerchief. 

Serafin, tipsy, crazy, beside himself, tried to 
throw himself into the water and swim after 
her; but Juan held him back. 

The gondola flew like a sea-bird, and soon 
disappeared in the darkening shadows of the 
night. 

“Now, I have lost her forever!” exclaimed 
the artist, falling back unconscious in Juan’s 
arms. 

Albert was utterly oblivious to his surround- 
ings. 

“ Off we go,” said our first sailor friend from 
his boat. “ It is quarter to eight.” 

“ Time to be off,” said another from his. 

“ Give me the one for Italy,” exclaimed the 
first. 

“ Give me the one for Lapland,” cried the 
second. 

“ Which one ? ” asked the hotel boy, anx- 
iously. 

“Stupid!” exclaimed the sailor, jumping 
ashore again. “ This one’s for Italy, and this 
one’s for Lapland. Here, Frascuelo! Take 


The Last Act of Norma, 


89 

this gentleman’s ticket, and give it to the cap- 
tain yourself. Ay ! but you are sick. Here, 
sir! Come along with me! Take care! 
Give me his ticket! That’s right! Now, 
we’re off ! Pull away ! ” 

Good-bye, Albert ! ” Good-bye Serafin ! ” 
hiccoughed the two friends, staggering, and 
disentangling themselves from a last embrace, 
after which they lost consciousness in that ab- 
solute prostration which follows hard drink- 
ing. 

The sailors then took charge of them, each 
repeating his respective phrase : 

“ This one for Italy, and this one for Lap- 
land ; this one for Lapland, and this one for 
Italy.” 

It is useless to say that our two heroes had 
to be carried into the boats in order to get 
them off. 

They were rowed away, and in a few seconds 
passed out of sight in the darkness. 




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The Last Act of Norma. 


93 


CHAPTER I. ^ 

JANE. 

HEN Serafin awoke he did not know 
where he was nor how long he had 
been there. He closed his eyes again, 
and was soon lost in that delightful drowsiness 
which succeeds profound stupor. He dreamed 
that the Earth rolled gently, or rather that it 
was being rocked in space, and this magic un- 
dulation produced in him a model case of sea- 
sickness. He also dreamed that a silent, 
motionless man stood at the foot of his bed, 
parting the curtains with one hand and strok- 
ing his under lip with the other. 

His countenance was so devoid of expression 
that he might have been taken for either 
twenty-five or fifty years of age. He wore a 
long blue tunic, gathered in at the waist by a 
belt of black fur, from which hung a very long 




94 


Brunhilde, or 


knife. His light hair was carefully brushed 
back from a high, narrow forehead. His face 
was very pale, and his eyes were of such a light 
blue that the iris was lost in the white of 
the ball ; they lacked all sign of intelligence or 
sympathy : they seemed to see without look- 
ing. A straight, sharp nose ; thin, colorless 
lips always scornfully curled ; close, sharp 
teeth and a light mustache, so blonde as to 
be almost white, completed that countenance 
stamped with bravery, irony and impiety, 
though handsome in spite of all. 

It seemed to Serafin that this strange indi- 
vidual much resembled the youth with the 
white cloak, who accompanied the Daughter of 
Heaven, and whom Albert had challenged. 
When he made a movement to shake off this 
nightmare, the bed curtain fell and the strange 
man disappeared behind it. 

Then our hera fully awoke. 

What he had believed to be the oscillation 
of the Earth was the rolling of the vessel, 
and the mysterious person — was really 
there. 


The Last Act of Norma. 95 

As it was bright daylight and he had not un- 
dressed, Serafin jumped out of bed. 

His surroundings had narrowed down to a 
very small, luxuriously furnished room. 

The man in the blue tunic, who was seated 
on a divan, rose and bowed. 

Serafin wondered where he had seen that 
face, and commenced to believe he was in the 
presence of the man of the white cloak ; never- 
theless he courteously saluted him while en- 
deavoring to overcome his emotions, which 
were an undefinable mixture of joy and fear. 

^‘Are you better?” asked the stranger in 
Spanish, but with a foreign accent. 

“ Thank you,” responded Serafin, coldly, “ I 
feel very well.” 

“ Allow me to introduce myself,” said the 
other. “I am Jarl* Rurico de Calix, captain 
of this ship, and you are under my orders.” 

Serafin bowed, more fearful than ever. 

“ They told me last night,” continued the 
captain, “ that you came on board ill, and my 


* Scandinavian Count. 


96 


Brunhilde^ or 


first care this morning was to rome down to 
ascertain your condition.” 

“Thanks, Captain,” responded Serafin, bow- 
ing again, but possessed with a feeling of 
dread on observing the cold irony of those 
eyes. 

The captain having fixed them on a mahog- 
any box, which formed a part of the musician’s 
luggage, murmured disdainfully : 

“ But now that I have seen you, I find that 
I have been deceived.” 

“ I do not understand you,” said Serafin. 

“You ought to understand me,” replied the 
captain. 

“ Explain yourself.” 

“The deceit is this. The man who came 
yesterday to make arrangements for your pas- 
sage, told me that you were a political refugee.” 
“ I ? ” 

“ But you are nothing of the sort. You are 
a love-sick violinist.” 

“ I never claimed to be a refugee. And the 
fact of your knowing me does not disturb 
me,” exclaimed Serafin, with some force. 


The Last Act of Norma. 


97 


I know you,” replied Rurico, “first by 
your violin, which is proof that you are a 
musician,” and he pointed to the mahogany 
box. 

“ So far you are right,” interposed Serafin. 

“ In the second place,” added the captain 
with his imperturbable calmness, “ I know your 
name, which lovers of music are not entirely 
unacquainted with.” 

“ How do you know it ? ” 

“By the ticket which the pilot of this ship 
honored you with, and which came into my 
hands to-day.” 

Serafin saw that argument was useless. 

“ There is still a thirdly,” continued Rurico. 
“ I know you because this is not the first time 
that I have seen you.” 

“Me?” 

“ You.” 

“ Where have you seen me ? Let us speak 
plainly.” 

“ In the Opera House of Seville night before 
last. Then I learned your name, and I have 
since seen it on your ticket.” . 


98 


Brmihildey of 


“You are then^ — ” interrupted Serafin, re- 
turning to his first suspicion. 

“ I am — one of the thousand spectators who 
applauded you.” 

“ It is true,” thought Serafin, now resigned. 

“You see,” continued Rurico, “that you 
deceived me.” 

“ Captain,” said Serafin, feeling his Spanish 
blood boil, “ I do not know what story that 
sailor invented to obtain my passage ; but I 
never lie, do you understand ? Nor do I 
permit any one to insult me.” 

The captain knitted his brows ; but, con- 
trolling himself instantly, smiled placidly and 
said : 

“ Very well, my dear fellow. We will let the 
matter drop, for our journey is a long one and 
it will be pleasanter for us to be good friends.” 

Serafin refrained from answering. 

“ As I know to what to attribute your bad 
temper, I forgive it, for I have already told 
you that I am aware of the ridiculous illness 
from which you are suffering.” 

“ What is my illness ? ” asked Serafin, irri- 


The Last Act of Norma. 99 

tated at the man’s persistent desire to master 
him. 

“You are love-sick — miserably love-sick.” 

“ Who told you so ? ” cried Serafin, “ and 
above all, who gave you the right to qualify 
my love ? ” 

“ I have already told you that I was at the 
opera night before last,” said Rurico de Cdlix, 
phlegmatically. 

“Well! what of it.?” asked the artist, 
endeavoring to read the thoughts of this man, 
whose face continued so expressionless. 

“ Simply this,” added the captain, “ I knew 
as well as the rest of the audience that you 
fell in love that night with the Daughter 
of Heaven. It was. fortunate for us, for 
we heard, with that as a motive, marvellous 
singing on her part, and wonderful playing on 
yours. I take advantage of this occasion to 
congratulate you. You are a genius.” 

“ Captain,” murmured Serafin ironically, bow- 
ing low for the hundredth time. 

“ Oh ! I am devoted to art,” continued 
Rurico, lightly, “ and am therefore very fond 


lOO Brunhilde^ or 

of artists. You are one and your friendship 
would be an honor to me.” 

That would be very difficult, captain,” 
responded the musician, courageously. 

“ I think not,” answered the other, “ inas- 
much as I aspire to the honor of curing you of 
your melancholy, or to be more explicit, your 
insensate love.” 

“ How ? Ah! Captain,” said Serafin, for- 
getting his diplomacy, “ let us be frank. Is 
the Daughter of Heaven on board this steam- 
er.^ Do you love her? Are you her husband? 
And am I wrong in idolizing her? ” 

The captain smiled strangely, and, placing 
his left hand on the musician’s shoulder and 
regarding him compassionately, exclaimed : 
“ Poor fellow ! ” Then starting to go, he added : 
“ Some day we will talk this all over. 

“ No, no ! Now, at once ! ’’ cried Serafin. 

“What I have to say is but little. I, also, 
have loved this prima donna.” 

“ But if you do not still care for her, why 
did you escort her to Seville ? Why did you 
accept my friend’s challenge ? ” 


The Last Act of Norma. 10 1 

At this moment the ship gave a terrible 
lurch. 

We are rounding Cape St. Vincent,” said 
the captain, looking out. “We have a favor- 
able wind.” 

Serafin knew nothing of navigation, and less 
of geography. 

“Yes,” continued the captain, “it is two 
years since I was in Copenhagen. Then she 
was more beautiful.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” exclaimed the 
musician. “ Ah ! I see that you are not 
speaking seriously.” 

“I understand your surprise,” replied the 
mariner. “You imagined the Daughter of 
Heaven to be little more than a child ; but do 
you know that she is thirty-two years old ? 
Oh ! the northern women live long, and age 
slowly. Then on the stage, all is so different.” 

“I see. Captain,” said Serafin, smiling, 
“ that to cure my love, you are giving me a 
remedy as ineffectual as it is well known.” 

“ I am speaking seriously, sir. This variety 
performer — ” 


102 


BrunJiilde^ or 


“ Captain ! ” 

“ This adventuress, rather,” continued 
Rurico de C^lix, without noticing Serafin’s 
indignatibn, “ is a kind of Lola Montez, who 
has had as many lovers as natural graces. I 
knew her, as I said before, two years ago-: she 
appeared to me exactly as she does to you, the 
personification of everything romantic and 
sentimental ; she has cost me a pile of money, 
and yesterday she left me forever.” 

“Take care what you say!” cried Serafin, 
his eyes flashing with anger. “ That woman is 
an angel.” 

“ Oh ! I am thoroughly well informed on the 
subject,” concluded the captain, arranging the 
collar of his coat. 

Serafin remained quiet, thoughtful, for a 
moment ; then seizing the hand of Rurico de 
Calix, said with all the enthusiasm of his can- 
did nature : 

“ Be frank with me ! I will renounce this 
woman, if you have any right to demand it of 
me. But tell me the truth, why did you 
accept my friend’s challenge if you did not 


The Last Act of Norma. 103 

love her? Why did you throw yourself into 
the Guadalquivir to follow her gondola?” 

“ I acted as , I did, with your friend,” 
responded the captain, calmly, “ not on ac- 
count of any jealousy, but because his behav- 
ior offended me as I was accompanying that 
lady although it may have been for the last 
time. In order to resent impertinences like 
those of your friend, it is not necessary to be 
in love ; self-respect alone would suffice.” 

Serafin, who was watching him closely, mur- 
mured to himself : 

“ This man is not lying ! ” 

“To return to the Daughter of Heaven,” 
added Rurico, “ you may discard all fear.” 

“ Fears of what ?” 

“ Of her crossing your path. You ought to 
thank God that chance has freed us from her.” 

“ What do you mean ! ” exclaimed the artist, 
anxiously. 

“That your ‘Norma’ sailed last night for 
South America to join her husband, with 
whom she wishes to be reconciled, owing to 
the fact that he has discovered a gold mine. 


104 


BruiiJiilde^ or 


That is why she left me. The ingrate has 
neither heart nor shame.” 

Serafin dropped into a chair, disconsolate. 

The captain continued : 

I fear that I am doing you harm. But have 
patience. Almost all drugs are bitter, but they 
bring back health. I, fortunately, am cured of 
any affection for that woman, whom I truly 
loved, and whom now I as heartily despise. 
I can show you letters of hers which would 
completely undeceive you. She sings well, it 
is true, but apart from that she has less soul 
than any woman I ever knew,” 

Serafin was not listening ; he was lost in the 
most profound dejection. 

Rurico had been standing in the door of the 
state-room while saying these things, the pic- 
ture of absolute indifference, when he suddenly 
stopped : — 

“ Excuse me, I believe they are calling me.” 

A shrill whistle had sounded. 

Serafin looked up, his face stamped with 
sad resignation, and addressing his new friend, 
said with the most tender interest : 


The Last Act of Norma. 105 

Oh, Captain ! before you go, at least tell 
me her name.” 

You love her still ?” 

“ I shall always love her ; I shall love her as 
the most beautiful of the many illusions 1 have 
lost. I shall love her as one loves an absent 
mother.” 

The captain said nothing, and started to- 
ward the hatchway. 

“ Tell me,” insisted Serafin. 

“ Know it then, as you insist upon it,” 
said Rurico. Her name is Jane, and she is 
English,” and he left. 

The young artist remained nailed to his 
chair. After a moment he raised his head 
stupidly and muttered in a low voice : 

“ Jane ! Jane ! What a horrible name ! ” 


io6 


Brunhildey or 


CHAPTER II. 

serafi'n arrives at two conclusions. 



E left Serafin in his state-room in a very 
bad humor. Wearying of this state 
of mind he attempted to divert his 
thoughts by re-arranging his toilet, and was 
still so occupied when two light haired, sturdily 
built dwarfs appeared in the gangway, bring- 
ing him his breakfast. 

“ It seems as though this new type of man 
is to pursue me through life,” thought Sera- 
fin. Without more ado, he attempted to 
start a conversation with them ; but at his 
first words, they indicated to him by gestures 
that they did not understand him, and tried to 
address him in their own tongue. 

It was a sharp, nasal jargon, which his 
Satanic Majesty himself could not have trans- 
lated ; so Serafin signified, as they had to him. 




The Last Act of Norma. 107 

that it was beyond him ; that he did not un- 
derstand. 

They shrugged their shoulders, and the 
musician commenced his breakfast. 

When he had finished, he gave a last touch 
to his toilet and went up on deck. 

They were on the high seas. 

He searched in vain for the coast of his 
native land ; an interminable succession of 
waves was all that he was able to distin- 
guish. 

It was a magnificent day. The light, the 
air, the water, mingling lovingly together, com- 
posed that grand picture, where there were 
neither mountains nor forests, nor rivers nor 
clouds, nothing that might limit or divide the 
distance. 

The sky and the ocean, those two kings of 
immensity, looked ^ each other in silence, as 
though startled at their own power, greatness 
and extent. 

There was sublimity in that solitude. 
Thought and sight were lost in it ; but hope 
did not forsake Serafin. 


io8 Brunhilde^ or 

“The consolation of seeing Italy still re- 
mains to me,” said he, drawing a deep sigh. 

Turning about, he saw twelve robust sailors 
near the mainmast, and, strange to say, all were 
blondes and young, very, very small, broad- 
shouldered, short-legged, and wearing blue 
blouses. 

These men, resembling those who seemed to 
be pursuing him, were stretched out upon 
deck, silently smoking. 

They fixed on our hero twenty-four eyes 
greener than the sea and more immovable 
than the sky. 

“ Say, boys ! how many leagues have we 
made?” said Serafin to them, a little discon- 
certed by the stolidity of their gaze. 

The twelve dwarfs raised themselves at the 
same time, and saluted in unison. 

“ Well, well ! Sit down ! ” said Serafin, 
lighting a cigar. “ But tell me when we will 
reach Italy.” 

The twelve gazed simultaneously at each 
other, and uttered some word in an un- 
known tongue ; then raising the thumb nail 


The Last Act of Norma. 109 

to their teeth they made it crack against 
them. 

“ Bah!” exclaimed Serafin, turning his back 
on them. “ Those men have all decided to 
speak the same language, or at least to use the 
same pantomime. I do not understand a soul 
on board. It is delightfully entertaining! I 
shall be reduced to talking to the captain, 
which is not too agreeable. I wonder what 
Albert is doing now,” he continued to think. 
“ What fools we were to drink so much that 
night ! I do not remember that I even bade 
him good-bye, despite his dangerous journey. 
There may be men of sufficient hardihood to 
go to the Pole ; but how much pleasanter the 
lagoons of Venice, the afternoons in Naples, 
the nights in Rome will be.” 

The musician made every effort to forget the 
Daughter of Heaven, whom the captain had 
painted in such dark colors ; but in vain — his 
thoughts would return to her. 

“ Norma,” he said to himself, “an adventu- 
ress ! a variety actress ! and thirty years old ! 
Jane ! and English — that means large feet. 


no 


Brunhilde^ or 


But that is the least of the evils. She has a 
husband! An owner! Heavens! And a 
lover besides. She is worse than Lucrezia 
Borgia. The end of it all is that I shall die 
single.” 

After this conclusion he repelled these 
contradictory thoughts, as they presented 
themselves, and bethought himself of his vio- 
lin as a consolation. 

He went to his state-room, and much to his 
astonishment found there a little darky of 
about fourteen or fifteen years of age, dressed 
in white, who saluted and handed him a note 
securely sealed. 

He opened it and read these words, written 
in Italian in a delicate hand : 

Be on your guard. It is probable that an 
attempt may be made on yotir life I' 

When he had recovered from his agitation, 
he looked for the bearer of this interesting 
paper. 

But he had disappeared. 

‘ The devil ! ’ would have been Albert’s 
remark under such circumstances,” said he. 


The Last Act of Norma, iii 

Things are becoming complicated. Who 
wishes my life ? Who sent me this warning } 
It may be another of the captain’s remedies to 
cure my unfortunate love.” 

Although he was calmed by such thoughts, 
he was sufficiently wide-awake not to neglect 
any precaution. He got out his English pis- 
tols, examined them to see if they were ready 
for use, and put them in the pocket of his 
overcoat. 

This occurrence quite took away any desire 
to play upon his violin, so he commenced un- 
packing his trunks, packing them again, 
arranging papers and reading music. 

Thus the night came on. 

As it gradually grew darker, he began 
to experience some fear, as he thought again 
of the anonymous letter and the dangers it 
pointed out. The ominous likeness of the cap- 
tain appeared to him again as it had done that 
morning in his dreams, and the thought of the 
unknown being who seemed to be watching 
over him on board the ship overwhelmed him 
with a thousand still more fantastic reflections. 


1 1 2 Brmihilde^ or 

He believed himself transported to a world 
of spectres. 

That crew of blonde dwarfs, the captain, the 
little darkey, and the satyr on the prow of the 
Leviathan^ all seemed, in his imagination, to 
revolve about him ; to make hateful grimaces 
at him, to laugh at him and to predict his death. 

The room appeared to be enveloped in 
clouds. The waves moaned sadly as they 
broke against the ship's side. The wind 
whistled with funereal echoes. At that instant 
he heard a sound above his head, and the 
state-room was filled with a dazzling light. 

He jumped to his feet and cocked his 
pistol. ' 

He heard steps approaching and believed the 
end had come. 

Undoubtedly two men were descending the 
stairway. At each step something jingled like 
the striking of a scabbard on the stairs. 

He cocked the other pistol. 

The two ghosts entered the state-room and 
arranged some knives, forks and spoons on the 
table. 


The Last Act of Norrna. 113 

They proved to be nothing more terrible 
than two stewards, bringing lights and his din- 
ner. 

Serafin, ashamed, hid his two pistols and 
turning to seat himself, murmured between 
a last quiver of fear and a smile of confi- 
dence : 

I am a fool.” 

That was the second conclusion for that 
day. 

But in spite of being a fool, he did not taste 
anything until the two stewards had partaken 
of several delicacies which he offered them. 


Brunhildej or 


1 14 


CHAPTER III. 

SHOWING THAT EVERY VIOLIN SHOULD 
HAVE ITS OWN BOX. 

OTHING more of moment occurred 
for a week. 

Meanwhile Seraffn did not go up 
on deck nor hardly leave his state-room, where 
he occupied himself in writing music with a 
zeal which was only fear disguised. He had 
therefore not shown the mysterious letter to 
the captain, nor had he seen him since the 
interview already described. 

The truth is, that if there was any one on 
board who inspired him with distrust, it was 
Rurico de Cdlix, whose revelations had left 
much to be desired, and whose frigid counte- 
nance was extremely disagreeable to him. 

However, no danger had as yet presented 
itself. 




The Last Act of Norma, 115 

The ninth day out he decided not' to shut 
himself up any longer, and at about four in the 
afternoon he went up on deck. 

When he put his head out of the hatchway, 
after so many days’ seclusion, he experienced 
such an extreme cold that he was obliged to 
go below for an overcoat. Thus arrayed, he 
turned to re-ascend. “ It is strange,” thought 
he, “ the Spring is advancing and we are going 
to more temperate climes than Spain, and yet 
it grows colder each moment. Is it possible 
that I have been misinformed about the cli- 
mate of Italy ? ” 

The reader will remember that Serafin was 
totally ignorant of geography. 

He was completely absorbed in his reflec- 
tions when he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“ Good afternoon,” said the captain, for it 
was he. 

“ Good afternoon,” answered the musician, 
trembling in spite of himself at the other’s 
extreme pallor. 

“ Sefior de Arellano,” said Rurico, regarding 
him fixedly, “ you will pardon me if I ask you 


Ii6 > Brunhildey or 

A 

a question, which is the result of the feeling 
with which you inspire me." 

The captain’s voice was graver than usual. 

“ I shall endeavor to answer you," said Sera- 
fin, on his guard at observing that his interloc- 
utor was trembling as much as he. 

There was a moment’s pause. 

“What is your object in taking this voy- 
age ? " asked Rurico, fixing his eyes on Serafin, 
who did not hesitate a moment in replying. 

“ I am going to perfect myself," said he, “ in 
counterpoint and composition." 

The captain opened his eyes to their widest 
extent. 

“ I see," he exclaimed finally, “ that you are 
going blindly on a wild trip without any 
knowledge of your destination ; your luggage 
proves it better than anything else." 

“You are mistaken, Captain," replied Sera- 
fin. “ I know the country where I am going, 
perfectly well, as I have passed the half of my 
life reading descriptions of it, and in inquiring 
all about it of everyone who has seen it." 

“You will soon know better." 


The Last Act of Norma. 117 

“ I know that the climate is soft and delight- 
ful.” 

Rurico smiled. 

“ That there, one finds the most beautiful 
gardens in Europe — ” 

The Jarl ceased smiling when he appreciated 
the artist’s seriousness. 

“ That sumptuous palaces abound there, 
rich museums, beautiful women and great 
musicians — ” 

“ Do not go on. There is nothing of the 
kind in the country where we are going,” ex- 
claimed the captain. “ I insist that you are the 
victim of a mistake. Hammerfest is almost 
uninhabited. You will freeze to death there.” 

“Oh! go to the devil!” said Serafin. 
“Your jokes have no sense in them.” 

At this moment a shrill whistle sounded. 

“ They are calling me and I must go to my 
cabin, but we will continue this later,” said the 
captain. 

“ Go ahead ; but please understand that I am 
tired of your jesting.” 

“ That’s all very well, but I understand 


ii8 


Brunhilde^ or 


quite well \h2X you are the one who is jesting 
with answered Rurico, smiling, and disap- 
pearing down a gangway. 

Serafin was thus left alone very much dis- 
turbed. Suddenly remembering his violin, 
mute and shut up in its case ever since that 
memorable night when Norma was sung, he 
went below with the same eagerness that one 
might go to see a friend after a long absence. 

He took it from the box, embraced it ten- 
derly, cleaned and tuned it, and half stretched 
himself out on the bed in order to be more at 
ease as he played. 

Mechanically, and moved by an irresistible 
impulse, he commenced the last aria of Norma. 
It was the last piece he had played, and now 
its sleeping echoes seemed gradually to 
awaken as the bow glided over the strings. 

It was twilight and all was quiet on board. 

His imagination carried him back to the 
night he first saw the Daughter of Heaven. 
Seville, the theatre, the lights, the orchestra, 
the public : all appeared before his eyes. 

Then he thought he heard from his instru- 


The Last Act of Norma, 119 

ment the echo of another sweeter voice ; he 
believed he saw that beautiful figure which 
had said ‘‘ adieu ” with its glances, its song, 
its action ; he believed really that that sublime 
moment was being repeated, and his heart was 
again filled with that fanatical love which the 
words of Rurico de Calix had not been able to 
kill. 

He suddenly stopped playing, imagining 
that he saw the beautiful Unknown standing 
under the purple canopy of her gondola, half 
lost between the sea and the shades of night 
and waving her handkerchief to him as sign of 
another “ adieu.” 

“Adieu,” murmured Serafi'n in deepest 
melancholy, tears gushing from his eyes. 

He was not thinking — he was dreaming, em- 
bracing his violin as he slept. 

* * * * * * 

It was very late when he awoke on the fol- 
lowing day. He had passed the entire night 
dreaming of Norma. At the first movement 
he made to arise, he discovered his violin in 
his arms. 


120 


Brufihilde^ or 


“Oh!” thought he, this instrument is 
the skeleton of all my hopes,” and he rose to 
put it in its case, saying with bitter irony : 

“Boxes are made for corpses. My violin 
without Norma is a body without soul.” 

But the box was not there. 

“So they have stolen it,” he thought. 
“But — with what object?” he asked himself. 
“Ah! I have it,” he exclaimed finally, his 
face lighting up. “Yes — that is it. They 
have tried to rob me of its contents. They 
wish to separate us, my violin ! ” 

He soon became sad and morose. 

“ Here is another mystery to clear up,” he 
muttered. 

“ The time has arrived for me to ask the 
captain a few questions. The letter of the 
other day — the theft of to-day. I must be on 
an enchanted ship, or in the power of a pirate 
crew. 

“ But — what possible harm can the divine 
music of Norma do to a lot of pirates? 
Heavens ! Can it be possible that the Daugh- 
ter of Heaven is on board this ship ! ” 


The Last Act of Norma, 


I2I 


CHAPTER IV. 

ONE WINE CLEARS WHAT THE OTHER MIXED. 

RSgjyiHAT day, after sunset, Serafin carefully 
® @9 dressed himself, shut his violin up in 
his trunk, and left his state-room. 
When he appeared on deck it was almost 
dark. The sailors were smoking as usual and 
conversing in their unknown tongue. 

He walked with firm step toward the hatch- 
way which led to the captain’s cabin. He 
went down the stairs and stumbled against a 
sort of sentry box, occupied by the smallest of 
all the blonde dwarfs of the crew who rose to 
check his advance. 

Serafin halted and made signs to him that 
he wished to see the captain. 

The dwarf saluted and disappeared within 
the cabin. 



122 


Briinhilde^ or 


A few moments later the door opened and 
Rurico de Cdlix appeared. 

“Ah! my friend,” said he, on seeing Sera- 
fin, “ you have something to say to me ? Let 
us go to your cabin then.” 

The musician was somewhat surprised at 
this impolite reception, and said to him, coldly: 

“You close your door against me ? ” 

“ Oh ! not that,” replied the captain, start- 
ing to go upon deck, “ not exactly that — 
but — ” 

“The case is this,” said Serafin, endeavor- 
ing to extricate himself from the difficulty, 
“what I have to say to you ought to be said 
in your own cabin.” 

“ What ! ” said Rurico, a trifle disconcerted. 

“ The truth is,” said Serafin, smiling, “that 
I am about to invite myself to dine with you.” 

Rurico did not know how to reply to this 
gay sally. One declines an invitation — but a 
guest, one receives with open arms. 

He thought an instant, only an instant, and 
descending the stairs, exclaimed with a smile : 

“You do me great honor ! You have really 


The Last Act of Norma. 123 

anticipated my desire. I was thinking of the 
same thing myself only to-day. Walk in ! ” 
Then pushing the screen aside he made Serafin 
enter. 

Serafin went in bravely enough, but not 
without some fear. He knew that he was 
playing a bold game which might mean life or 
death. 

He was soon lost in admiration, however, 
for he had not believed that on board the 
Leviathan there was such a luxurious corner as 
that little cabin. 

The floor, walls and ceiling were all covered 
with a rich, blue material, very soft and thick. 
In such an apartment one could never feel 
a chill. On the right was a stained glass 
door of wonderful design. Four lamps hung 
from the ceiling, giving a soft and brilliant 
light. In the centre of the room a table was 
laid for one, with every refinement and luxury. 

“ I was about to dine, when you arrived,” 
said the captain, giving some orders in a dif- 
ferent language to two dwarfs in elegant liv- 
ery, who hastened to place another cover. 


124 


Brunhildey or 


“ He eats alone,” thought Serafin mean- 
while. 

The two servants, receiving other orders 
from the captain, did not cease bringing bot- 
tle after bottle of all sizes and shapes, until 
they formed a long line at one end of the 
table. 

There were enough there to overcome ten 
Englishmen. 

“ Sit down, Arellano,” said the captain, 
“ but first, let us take a drink. I have every- 
thing in the way of wines and liquors ; a liquid 
prism the poets would call it, because you will 
see successively in your glass, black wine, red, 
purple, rose, gold, and some as colorless as 
water. You must try all, if only a swallow 
of each. Let us have some of this ! ” 

Serafin, who was very fond of a good wine, 
tossed his off and it seemed delicious to him. 

The dinner was excellent and comprised 
many rare delicacies. The captain drank in- 
ordinately, thus obliging his guest to do like- 
wise. 

Serafin put off until dessert the explanation 


The Last Act of Norma. 125 

he wished from the captain, giving himself up 
body and soul to the enjoyment of his host’s 
wines, attempting to feel happy because he 
knew that in that mood he could speak more 
frankly. 

Rurico was observing him closely, as if 
studying the effect the wines were producing. 

From time to time he cast a quick glance 
toward the stained glass door already men- 
tioned ; he seemed to be apprehensive of dan- 
ger from that quarter. 

Serafin apparently was deep in enjoyment 
of the dish before him. 

“ What are you thinking about ? ” asked the 
captain. 

‘‘ I was thinking that this is the best ham I 
have ever tasted,” answered Serafin. 

I believe you. It is reindeer.” 

Reindeer ! What is that 1 ” 

“ The reindeer is the most precious gift that 
nature has condescended to bestow upon the 
men of the north. Let us try this port.” 

Serafin, with a sigh of satisfaction, emptied 
his glass in one swallow. 


26 


Brunhilde, or 


“ By the bye, Captain,” he said, after settling 
himself back in his chair, “ why are your sailors 
all dwarfs and blondes ?” 

'‘They are Laplanders,” . answered Rurico, 
gazing each time with more uneasiness at the 
stained glass door. 

“A propos of blondes and Laplanders,” 
continued Serafin, whose tongue was com- 
mencing to loosen from the wine he had 
drunk, “ is it true, that if a white bear devours 
a blonde woman his bones turn red ? ” 

At this instant they heard in the distance 
two or three notes of a piano, as if a hand 
might have accidentally lighted on the keys. 

Serafin trembled. 

Rurico turned deathly pale. 

“You have a piano on board?” asked the 
musician, following the captain’s glance to the 
glass door. 

“ I have a music box to put me to sleep. I 
thought you had heard it. Do you not go on 
deck in the evenings ? ” 

“ On deck, in this cold, with no warm 
clothes ? I go to bed every night at sunset ! ” 


The Last Act of Norma. 127 

“ Do you really ? But to return to your 
question — first let us try this Tokay.” 

Serafin drank it and was almost paralyzed. 

“ Captain ! ” he exclaimed, “ the room is 
turning around.’' 

“ That is nothing,” said Rurico, “ you will 
not notice it after a few more drinks. Try 
this Chipre. Well, sir, 1 was fishing once at 
Faruvel, in Greenland — ” 

Here the piano sounded more vigorously 
than before, starting off with a brilliant pre- 
lude. 

Serafin paid no attention to the captain, who 
continued telling Heaven knows what story 
in a very loud voice, while he waited, with all 
his five senses on the alert, for the piece that 
should follow. 

The captain stopped suddenly and proposed 
a walk on deck. “In that way you can refresh 
yourself,” he added. 

Refresh myself ! ” said Serafin, “ I am per- 
fectly refreshed, thank you. I am never over- 
come.” 

And in order to corroborate this false state- 


128 Briinhildey or 

ment, he drank from the first bottle within his 
reach. 

It was Kirsch. 

The second swallow finished him. 

“ I am pursued by blue eyes, Captain,” he 
stuttered, staggering up. “ They are like yours. 
One never knows what you are thinking about ! 
Now, look at mine ! But who is that playing? 
Your music-box? ” 

It was the last act of Norma, and the one 
song that Serafin was able to recognize in that 
moment of almost utter insensibility. 

He did not know where he was, nor did he 
see the captain. He was dreaming that he was 
in Seville, listening to the Daughter of Heaven. 

“ Take another swalloV,” said Rurico, stand- 
ing instinctively between Serafin and the 
glass door, and offering him a peculiarly shaped 
bottle. “ There still remain many northern liq- 
uors that you have not tasted.” 

‘‘No, no more,” murmured Serafin. 

“ Let us drink to that song,” said the cap- 
tain, pouring out a glass from the bottle. 

“ Ah yes — that. To Norma !” replied Ser- 


129 


The Last Act of Norma. 

afin. “ Come, come, Captain,” and seizing the 
bottle, he proposed to swallow the contents at 
a quaff, but it slipped from his hands before he 
had hardly tasted its contents. 

It was Kumel. 

‘‘ Bravo! ” cried Rurico, in a loud tone, at- 
tempting to drown the sound of the piano. 

“ Bravo ! ” repeated Serafin. “You are the 
peer of Amphitryon. From Lucullus to Monte 
Cristo no one has equalled you in doing the 
honors of the table. For my part, I propose 
to reciprocate with an artistic breakfast as soon 
as we reach Italy. Eh 1 How does that strike 
you ? Will you be my guest from Venice to 
Florence ? ” 

“You are crazy. You have lost your head 
completely,” said the captain. 

“ Who ? I ? I am more sober than you 
are.” 

“ Yes. Any one can see that. You think 
you are in your right mind when you talk of 
reaching Italy ? ” 

“ Well, what of that ? ” 

“ Nothing.” 


1^6 


Brunhitde, of 


“ Nothing ! ” repeated Serafin. 

“ Do you see it?” said Rurico. 

“ See what ? ” 

“ That you are crazy.” 

“ How, crazy ? ” 

“Yes, sir. You said ‘nothing,’ as though it 
were an absurdity.” 

“ As though what was an absurdity ? ” 

“ Reaching Italy.” 

“ Well,! ” 

“ Well, you will never get there.” 

“ What 1 ” said Serafin, smiling. “ Do you 
think of putting me out of the way before we 
arrive? ” 

“ Put you out of the way ! ” muttered Rur- 
ico, glancing darkly at him. 

“ Did you not say we would never reach 
Italy ? ” 

“ That is perfectly clear, as we are sailing in 
an exactly opposite direction.” 

“ We are not going to Italy ? ” 

“ No.” 

“Ha, ha, ha! You are the drunkest man 
I ever saw.” 


The Last Act of Norma. 13 1 

“You are the drunken one,” answered Rur- 
ico. “ I am sober.” 

“ Ha, ha, ha ! ” continued Serafin, falling 
into a chair. “ Where are we going then ? ” 

“To Lapland.” 

“ What nonsense ! Your muddled imagina- 
tion has confounded me with my friend 
Albert. He is going to the Pole. I am going 
to Venice. Listen. ‘ This one to Italy and 
this one to Lapland ; this one to Lapland and 
this one to Italy.’ That was what the sailor 
said the day we left, when I was more intoxi- 
cated than you are now.” 

“Are you serious?” asked Rurico, grasping 
Serafin ’s arm. 

“Of course I am. You must have my 
ticket — ” 

“ I have, and you can see it for yourself,” 
said the captain, taking a piece of paper from 
his desk. “ Look at it.” 

Serafin was thinking of something else; he 
was listening, near the glass door, to the last 
notes of Norma. 

“ What wonderful expression your valet has! 


132 


BrunJnldey or 


So like the Daughter of Heaven,” stammered 
the musician, putting his hand on the knob. 

Rurico sprang toward him and dragged him 
away, jerking him a little more than neces- 
sary. 

“ Here ! ” exclaimed Serafin, “ don’t be so 
rough. I will not look at her if you object.” 

“ At whom ? ” said the captain with unnec- 
essary vehemence. 

“ At the room, the little boudoir,” answered 
the violinist, smiling like an idiot. 

The captain breathed more freely. 

“ Let us end this entertainment,” he said. 
“ Take your ticket and go to bed. To-morrow 
we can talk about correcting this mistake.” 

Serafin took the ticket and after a thousand 
mistakes and repetitions read the following 
words : 

“ Passage for Don Serafin Arellano, refugee, on 
the bark Leviathan which leaves Cadiz, Spain, 
for Hammerfest, Lapland, the i6th day of 
April, 1 8 — , at 8 p. m. 

“Captain, Rurico de Calix, 

“ J. Peters, pilot.” 


The Last Act of Norma. 133 

Serafin pressed his hands to his head, feel- 
ing that he was losing his mind. 

I am going to the Pole ! ” he finally 
exclaimed in desperation. 

Rurico was looking at him intently, mute, 
immovable. 

“ To the Pole ! ” repeated Serafin, stum- 
bling around the room. 

The captain saw him stagger but did not 
attempt to aid him. 

“ To the Pole ! ” he murmured, falling to the 
floor. 

Rurico muttered these words: “ It is fate. 
He followed me involuntarily. The devil is 
determined to bring us face to face. It is his 
destiny.” 

Then recovering himself, “Here!” he 
exclaimed. 

His servants entered. 

“ Carry this man to his cabin 1 ” he said, 
pointing to Serafin who gave no sign of life. 

And turning his back on the unpleasant 
sight he tapped at the glass door. 

A little darky, dressed in white, opened it. 


134 Briinhilde, of 

The piano, at that moment, sounded louder 
than ever. 

Rurico entered and the door closed. 

As for Serafin, two Laplanders seized him 
by his feet and shoulders as though he were a 
corpse and disappeared with him through the 
same door he had entered so gay and confi- 
dent only two hours before, as though sure of 
scoring an easy victory. 


The Last Act of Norma. 


i35 


CHAPTER V. 

IN WHICH SERAFIN HEARS MANY IMPORTANT 
THINGS. 


N reaching the deck the cold night air 
brought him to himself. 

‘‘ Let me alone ! ” he said, escaping 
from the servants. 

The dwarfs, seeing that he was all right, 
obeyed the signs he made and left him. 

He recuperated rapidly. The realization of 
the fact that he was going to the Pole, aided 
by the cold wind on his face, cleared his brain. 
He wished to think. He searched for his 
reason through his madness and succeeded in 
convincing himself that he was going North. 

To the Pole ! " he exclaimed. “ It cannot 
be ! I ought to go to Italy. I wish to go, 
and I will go in spite of all. I have earned 
over two thousand dollars with my violin. I 



136 


Brimhilde, or 


have saved them one by one for this object. 
And now, to be going to the Pole ! Curses 
upon wine ! But there may yet be time. 
Albert said that the voyage to Lapland was 
made in a month, and we have been out only 
ten days. I will demand at once that we 
approach nearer the coast and I can then start 
for the South. But how can I leave this ship 
when everything tells me that the Daughter of 
Heaven is on board? Suppose though it is 
not so. Suppose that the captain did not 
deceive me, and that it really was his valet 
who was playing.” 

Thinking thus, Serafin went to his cabin, not 
without indulging in a few circles and semi-cir- 
cles ; when, between the roar of the waves that 
broke upon the Leviathan, he heard the vague 
echo of a voice which for ten days had re- 
sounded without ceasing in his soul. 

That breath of wind passed, and the magic 
sound was lost. 

“ It was her voice ! ” he exclaimed. “ But 
what madness ! It must be that sea-sickness 
again.” 


The Last Act of Norma, 137 

But another harmonious lament, clearer and 
more penetrating than before, broke upon his 
ear. 

“ I am not mistaken!” he exclaimed, stop- 
ping anew. “ It is a woman’s voice ! It is 
hers ! And it sounds here, here below. It 
is quite clear to me now, this must be the 
apartment with the glass door. My God ! 
Give me my reason ! It is she ! It is she who 
is singing. Her accent, her expression, her 
tenderness. And she is singing the last act of 
Norma. The last act ! Ah, yes ! It is she ! 
The Daughter of Heaven.” 

So saying, he bent down and put his ear to 
the flooring. His heart was again filled with 
that intense love felt that memorable night in 
Seville ; and the bitterness of doubt, the fever 
of despair vanished from his heart, as phan- 
toms and dreams disappear when the early 
bird announces the break of day. 

In the middle of that sublime verse: 

“ Del sangue tuo pieta ! ” 

the voice of the singer stopped abruptly. 


138 Brunhilde^ or 

as though a sudden terror had surprised 
her. 

A deathly silence followed, which froze Sera- 
fin’s blood in his veins. Then he heard the 
captain’s voice in an unknown tongue, pitched 
in a high key and full of anger. 

Another voice, grave and quiet (undoubt- 
edly that of the old man of the box) inter- 
rupted Rurico’s tirade. 

Then he heard a sound as of a door slam- 
ming, and of steps approaching near him. 

He looked intently and saw a figure emerge 
from the captain’s cabin, which, as it drew 
nearer and stood out against the starry sky, he 
recognized to be that of a man. 

Serafin could not be seen, for he was almost 
prone upon the deck, close against the ship's 
side ; but from his hiding place he could tell 
that the figure was that of the captain. 

Presently, more steps were heard, and an- 
other figure, smaller but stouter than the cap- 
tain’s appeared in the hatchway. 

“ The old fellow of the box,” thought Sera- 
fin, hidden in the darkness. 


The Last Act of Norma, 139 

Rurico and the old man commenced walking 
from the bow tp the stern. 

From his position on one side of the quarter- 
deck, Serafin could have easily heard and un- 
derstood their entire conversation had it been 
carried on in a familiar tongue. He had about 
resigned himself to remain in ignorance of the 
subject of their remarks, when he heard 
Rurico say : 

“ Let us drop your language, Jarl,* and con- 
fine ourselves to French in which we under- 
stand each other better.’’ 

As he was familiar with this language, Sera- 
fin was overjoyed on hearing these words. 

“ I said that your tone to the Jarlesa,f dis- 
pleased me very much,” said the old man. 

“You know my respect for her, Count, but 
consider the difficult situation in which I am 
placed.” 

“You exact too much, Rurico.” 

“Too much!” exclaimed the captain. 


* Count, 
t Countess. 


140 


Brunhilde, or 


“when I feel sure that she knows that that 
fool-hardy youth is on board ? ” 

“ She does not know it. There has been no 
way for her to discover it.” 

“ Oh ! ” exclaimed Rurico, with vehemence, 
“ if I could convince myself of what you 

f ” 

say — ! 

He did not finish the thought, but Serafin 
divined it. 

He meant to say that if he could assure him- 
self that she was ignorant of Serafin ’s pres- 
ence on board, he could kill him, without ex- 
posing himself to the hate of the woman he 
loved. 

The old man did not comprehend the 
other’s fearful menace, and said to him : 

“ I would be willing to swear that she 
does not know anything of this poor musician’s 
intended voyage, and that by this time she has 
forgotten all about him.” 

Rurico was silent for a moment, and then 
said : 

“ I ask only one favor of you, Seflor Gus- 
tavo, and that is that you will beg her not to 


The Last Act of Norma, 141 

sing again until the voyage is over. This ever- 
lasting playing and singing of the last act of 
Norma is getting very tiresome ; it continually 
reminds me of a night that I should like to 
forget. As for him, he will not play again on 
this ship.” 

“ Why not ? what have you done ? ” 

“ My cabin boy got the violin last night, box 
and all, and threw it overboard this morning.” 

Serafin smiled in the darkness. 

“ Bad business, Rurico. Very bad busi- 
ness ! ” exclaimed the count. 

“ Oh, well ! I suppose I am jealous,” replied 
the treacherous host. 

It struck Serafin that the captain’s tone to 
the old man was insincere, and this gave him 
the impression that perhaps he was the father 
of the Daughter of Heaven. 

“ Have patience and be a man,” said Count 
Gustavo; “you have my friendship, and can 
rely upon my protection. Within fifteen days 
we shall reach Hammerfest and then I will 
arrange everything to your satisfaction.” 

These words alarmed Serafin, and as the two 


142 


Brunhilde^ or 


foreigners turned to go below, he rose cau- 
tiously, passed his hand across his brow, and 
leaning against the side of the vessel thought 
as follows : 


The Last Act of Norma. 


143 


CHAPTER VI. 


serafin’s thoughts. 



take ? 


HAT stupid sailor at Cadiz made sad 
work of us and our tickets. 

“Ought I to be happy at the mis- 
We shall see.” 


“ Albert is sailing for Italy against his v/iil — 
Poor Albert ! ” 


“ I am going to the Pole. 

“ My poor savings ! Poor me ! Nothing can 
prevent me from freezing. But then, on the 
other hand I am going with the Jarlesa. 

“ What does ‘ Jarlesa ’ mean ? ” 

“ Rurico de Calix is the name of the white 
mantle whom Albert challenged. 

“ ‘ The devil ! ’ he would exclaim — ” 


“ But how was it that Rurico gave me a 



144 


Brunhilde, or 


ticket to sail on this ship, if, as he says, he 
knew my name and must also have known my 
love for the Daughter of Heaven ? He told 
me that he was not aware that it was I when 
he gave the order for my passage, and that it 
was one of his clerks who filled out the ticket. 
That means that the captain did not know 
I was aboard the Leviathan until he came 
down to see the sick passenger the following 
morning, and stumbled up against me. 

“ That is as clear as water.” 


“ But to return to the Daughter of Heaven. 
She is on board with me. What happiness ! ” 

“^And she knows it too, whatever Seflor 
Gustavo may say to the contrary.” 

“ She knows it because it was her note that 
warned me of my danger. Then she loves me.” 


“ That danger comes from the captain’s 
direction. 

“ I will live like Argus.” 


The Last Act of Norma. 145 

“ The captain has not yet attempted any- 
thing against my life for fear of incurring the 
hatred of the Daughter of Heaven. 

“ So that for ten days I have owed my exist- 
ence to her protection.” 

“ The bald, old dwarf of the Seville opera 
box is in our favor. He is a Count, and his 
name is Gustavo. But what relation does he 
bear to her? Is he her father? Her uncle? 
Her guardian ? Her tutor? 

“ Time will tell.” 


“ Jane is too ugly a name for her. It is not 
her name.” 


And she is not called Jane either, from the 
mere fact of the captain having sworn to the 
contrary ; for he is a magnificent liar.” 

“ English women have large feet, as God 
probably thought fit to give them. But she is 
not English, nor can she have large feet. 

She is perfection.” 


146 


Brunhilde^ or 


‘ Not only to-night, but at many other 
times,’ as the captain said, ‘ she has sung the 
last act of Norma.’ Then at all hours she 
thinks of me.” 


“ The captain wished to get me drunk, so 
that, as he could not prevent her playing, I 
should not hear the piano. 

“ What a wretch he is ! ” 


“ Then this man does- not control her. 
“ That pleases me.” 


Neither does she order him. 
“ All the better ! ” 


Nevertheless, why do they travel together? 
“ That is the key to the whole situation.” 


‘ Who is he? 

“ I do not know.” 


Who is she ? 

“ Of that also, I am ignorant.” 


The Last Act of Norma, 


147 


“He loves her. 
“ That is bad.” 


“ She hates him. 
“ Magnificent ! ” 


“ Then if she plays the last of Norma in his 
face, he is not her husband. 

“ Superb ! ” 


“ And he is not her beloved, for I am that. 
“ Sublime ! ” 


“ Neither is he her lover. 

“ Ah ! no. She is as pure as snow.” 


“ He is not her brother. 

“ Impossible ! When were the serpent and 
the nightingale ever so related ? ” 


“ Nor her friend. 

“ How could he be ? ” 


Nor her father. 


48 


Brwihilde^ or 


“ Eh ! ” 


“ Nor her son. 

“ What nonsense ! ” 


“ Nor a stranger. 

“ That is evident and extremely serious ! ” 


“ Nor her servant. 

“ Of course not ! ” 

Nor her master. 

“ This least of all ! ” 


Oh ! I shall go mad ! 

“ Thought intoxicates as much as wine.” 

So saying he went below to his cabin and 
turned in. He slept as one sleeps at twenty- 
four. 


The Last Act of Norma. 


149 


CHAPTER VII. 

A MURDEROUS GLANCE. 

HEN scarcely awake, Serafin, like a gen- 
eral who scents the battle, exclaimed : 
“ This is a great day ! ” 

He rose and dressed himself with some care 
and took his violin from his trunk. 

At this moment the same little negro, 
dressed in white, whom we have seen before, 
appeared in the door-way. 

He approached Serafin with his finger on 
his lips, enjoining silence, and handed him a 
small note. 

Serafin wished to speak to him before he 
escaped, as on the last occasion ; but the little 
fellow gave him to understand that he compre- 
hended neither French, Italian or Spanish, the 
only languages the musician spoke. 

He then read the letter, which was as follows : 




150 


Brunhilde, or 


“ The danger increases. The first day you go 
on deck, a sailor will feign madness and will 
attempt to stab you. You have nothing to fear 
from poison T 

“No signature!’* exclaimed Serafin, “but 
it is from her ! ” 

An idea suddenly struck him. 

“ Here is an opportunity to write to her ! ” 
he exclaimed, with indescribable joy. 

But the little negro had disappeared. 

“^The devil!” ejaculated Serafin, who in 
moments of perplexity and trouble availed 
himself of Albert’s favorite expression. 

“ I am the dullest man to receive love mes- 
sages,” thought he. 

He then re-read the letter and put it care- 
fully away, after kissing it repeatedly. 

“To-day I shall go up on deck,” said he to 
himself as he stood before the mirror finishing 
the arrangement of his cravat. 

He was thus occupied when he saw the 
unpleasant face of Rurico de Cdlix appear be- 
hind him in the mirror. 


The Last Act of Norma. 15 1 

He was enveloped in a long coat of the fin- 
est black fur and was frightfully pale. 

‘'Are you better?” he said smilingly, as he 
seated himself. 

“I? Yes. And you ?” asked Serafin with 
apparent indifference. 

“ I have not been ill,” answered the captain, 
still smiling. 

“Nor have I,” replied the musician; “your 
wines made me dream. Nothing more,” 

The captain thought a moment, as though 
wishing to discover the tactics of his adversary. 

But Serafin not trusting his own eyes, which 
expressed more than he desired they should, 
turned them in another direction and, seeing 
his violin, took it up with feigned carelessness. 

Rurico was astounded to see in the young 
fellow’s hands what he had believed was lost 
in the depths of the sea. 

“ How many violins have you ? ” he asked, 
with apparent calmness. 

“ Only one. This one,” answered Serafin 
quietly. “ Why do you ask? ” 

The answer was difficult ; but not for 


152 


Brunhilde, or 


Rurico, who took the cue from there to guide 
the conversation into the channel he desired. 

“I asked,” he replied, “so that you might 
choose the best one for to-night.” 

“ What do you mean ? 

“ I want you to play in my cabin this even- 
ing. I intend giving a concert.” 

Serafin jumped up quickly. 

The captain’s stroke had told. 

“ What is the matter? ” asked Rurico, smiling. / 

“ Nothing,” answered the musician, instantly 
controlling himself, “ only I miss my violin 
case.” 

If the stroke of the captain was well aimed, 
that of the artist was no less true. 

“ Who takes part in this concert ? ” con- 
tinued Serafin with evident eagerness. 

“ A great genius,” responded the captain. 

“ One who will succeed in astonishing, bewil- 
dering, maddening you.” 

“ Oh ! of whom are you speaking ? ” ex- 
claimed the musician with dilated eyes. 

“ I suppose, my dear fellow, that you are 
still enamoured of the Daughter of Heaven ? ” 


The Last Act of Norma. 


53 


What ! It is she ? ” exclaimed Serafin. 
“I am going to hear her sing? Thanks, 
thanks, my friend.” 

Rurico de Calix burst into a loud laugh. 

‘‘ What a fool you are ! ” he cried. Have I 
not told you that that variety actress has 
gone to Buenos Ayres? ” 

Serafin bit his lips. 

“ He is mocking me,” he thought angrily. 

The captain continued : 

“ I refer to Eric, my valet, who heard the 
woman you love so much sing in Seville.” 

‘‘ Say, did love.” 

“ All right,” said the captain, with his inces- 
sant smile, “ but I was about to tell you. 
Eric has the faculty of imitating perfectly 
every voice he hears, like the parrot of Bra- 
ham, the English singer. You know that Cat- 
alini went on his knees before that bird. 
Well! You will do the same before Eric. 
He heard the Daughter of Heaven in Norma, 
and imitates her in such a way, in the last act 
especially, that I am confounded myself. A 
very little more would bring me to my knees.” 


54 


Brunhilde y or 


Rurico said all this so frankly that Serafin 
might have fallen into the trap and believed 
him to the letter, had he not heard his 
conversation with Gustavo the night be- 
fore. 

He feigned indifference to the captain’s re- 
marks, who seeing it, said : 

“Let us talk of something else. You re- 
member the mistake of which we were speak- 
ing last evening. The messenger who came 
for your ticket was simply crazy to get it on 
this ship. He is the cause of starting you off 
on a voyage in the very opposite direction 
from that in which you intended to go. Now, 
to-morrow, the Leviathayi will reach the north- 
ernmost point of Scotland, abreast of the 
Hebrides, which also belong, as you know, to 
Great Britain. I offer, as I think it just that I 
should, to approach close to land in order to 
put you ashore, for I do not believe that you 
have any desire to freeze in Hammerfest. In 
Tonque, the capital of Lewis Island, the 
largest of the Hebrides group, I have a friend 
who deals in woolen goods with Norway. I 


The Last Act of Norma, 155 

will leave you in his house and charge him 
with facilitating your return to Spain, whence 
you can take up your voyage to Italy as you 
intended. You will therefore have nothing to 
complain of in me.” 

Serafin listened to the captain without mani- 
festing the least surprise, affirmation, or nega- 
tion. He wished to sound his intentions- to 
the very depths. 

That proposition was Rurico’s first and last 
act of generosity. 

“ This man,” thought Serafin, “ suspects that 
I heard the Daughter of Heaven sing last 
night and wishes to throw me off the track by 
telling me it was Eric. To-night Eric will 
feign illness and there will be no concert. 
That is not badly thought out. There being 
nothing to detain me on board, as he imagines 
me to believe, the most natural thing for me 
to do would be to seize this opportunity of 
not going to Lapland. He would leave me 
on this island to-morrow and thus rid himself 
of me. Well, sir ! I must confess that you are 
shrewd. And generous too, for he takes this 


156 


Brunhilde^ or 


step in order to avoid killing me. Let me 
think! If I accept, I avoid compromises, 
escape the danger which threatens me, do not 
expose myself to the polar winter, save the 
greater part of my money, see Italy — and 
live forever without the Daughter of Heaven. 
If I refuse, I expose myself to assassination, 
to be frozen to death, or to die of hunger, never 
to see Matilde again, and not to see Italy. 
But— I remain with the Daughter of Heaven — 
and — who knows ! ” 

That “ who knows / ” which brought before 
him so many flattering possibilities, conquered 
Serafin. 

Rurico was very much surprised at his 
silence and said, with evident uneasiness : 

“ What are you thinking about? ” 

“ Your words have given me several things to 
think about, one of which troubles me very 
much.’' 

“What is that?” 

“ I am about to tell you. You are either 
crazy, and that is what troubles me, or you 
have not recovered from the fever of last 


The Last Act of Norma. 157 

night’s intoxication, and perhaps you have 
drunk more to-day.” 

Rurico cast an angry glance at him. All 
the venom and malice of his nature seemed 
concentrated in the spark of hatred which 
darted from his eyes. 

Serafin burst out laughing. 

Do not laugh ! ” hissed Rurico. “ Do not 
dare to laugh, but explain your meaning.” 

“ May I not laugh,” replied Serafin, “ when you 
assure me that I do not wish to go to Lapland, 
but to Italy ? where did you get such an idea ? ” 

“ Last night — you ” — the captain started to 
say. 

“ Oh ! last night I was drunk,” interrupted 
Serafin, shrugging his shoulders. 

“ You said that there was a mistake in your 
ticket.” 

“ Nothing of the sort, Captain. Look — I 
have it here, that is, if you gave it to me 
last night. Yes, here it is! Read it. ^ For 
Hammer fest, Lapland' Oh ! it’s all right. 
I’ve thought of this trip for three years. Three 
years, Captain ! Think of it ! But you have 


158 


Brurihilde^ or 


undoubtedly mistaken me for Albert, who 
started for Italy the same day. You know whom 
I mean, considering that you have a duel with 
him hanging over you. An ‘ engagement with 
the undertaker,’ as Victor Hugo would say.” 

Rurico rose as Serafin uttered these words, 
which sounded to him like a death sentence. 

He listened quietly and, when Serafin had 
ceased speaking, stretched out his hand to him, 
saying : 

“ Pardon my misconception. I confess that 
last night I lost my senses. What you say is 
correct.” 

Serafin felt some apprehension as he listened 
to that cold, slow, menacing utterance. 

“ Well ! I’ll see you to-night,” added the 
captain as he left. 

“ Yes, to-night,” repeated Serafin, “ I’ll see 
you at the concert.” 

“ God be with you ! ” exclaimed Rurico, 
leaving the cabin. 

“Good-bye,” said the artist, somewhat per- 
turbed at hearing that sacred name from the 
lips of Rurico de Calix, which seemed, on this 


159 


The Last Act of Norma. 

occasion, like the religious advice of the ex- 
ecutioner to his victim before dealing the fatal 
blow. 


i6o 


Brunhilde^ or 


CHAPTER VIII. 

WHICH ENDS IN A VILLANOUS SMILE. 

T was eleven o’clock on that same morn- 
ing; the cold was intense and the 
Leviathan was still speeding North, 
ocean was of an ashy hue and the sky 
was covered with gray clouds. To the star- 
board, there appeared in the distance a black 
line on the horizon. 

It was Scotland. 

The entire ship’s crew was on deck, not en- 
joying the sun, which scarcely gave any heat 
when it appeared momentarily through the 
clouds ; but, wrapped in furs, divided in groups 
and ceaselessly smoking. 

Rurico was walking the quarter-deck. 

At half-past eleven Serafin appeared in the 
hatchway which led from his cabin. 

He was very pale, but collected. 



The 



The Last Act of Norma. i6i 

Under circumstances less grave, he could not 
have stood the cold on deck so thinly clad ; 
but he was so preoccupied as to be insensible 
to the temperature. 

He had a project in view. 

Rurico halted on seeing him. 

The musician advanced towards him, glanc- 
ing carefully over the crew as he passed. 

“ Which is the assassin? ” thought he. 

The captain bowed coldly and turned away 
to examine the Scottish line with a telescope. 

Serafin heard a loud, hoarse burst of laughter 
behind him. He turned and saw one of the 
sailors struggling to free himself from the 
grasp of his companions, making frightful 
grimaces and laughing like a demon. 

The captain did not move nor even look in 
that direction. 

Serafin turned his back to the danger — he 
preferred to let it come. 

In a few moments he heard a cry from the 
whole crew. 

“ The scoundrel is coming for me,” he 
thought. 


Brunhildey or 


162 

Then he heard steps. 

/ ‘‘ They are nearer,” he said to himself, grow- 
ing livid. 

He turned quickly. 

The feigning madman threw himself on the 
musician, dagger in hand. 

Serafin warded off the blow by a quick 
movement, twisted the sailor’s wrist until he 
dropped the weapon, and, catching him by the 
collar and belt, dragged him to the port side 
and threw him overboard. 

This was the work of a moment. 

The crew gave a yell more terrible than be- 
fore and rushed to save their comrade. 

The captain turned, believing all to be over. 

The first thing that met his eyes was Serafin, 
standing determined and menacing, a revolver 
in each hand. 

Rurico drew back and looked again. 

He heard a cry from the sea and turning 
saw the sailor-assassin battling with a shark. 

In a few moments he disappeared beneath 
the waves notwithstanding the ropes thrown 
from the ship, and nothing was left to mark 


The Last Act of Norma, 163 

the spot but some bubbles of discolored 
water. 

Fearing that Serafin might kill him also, 
Rurico exclaimed, hypocritically : ' 

“ What is the matter, my friend ? ” 

The matter is that I am ready to defend 
myself,” replied the musician. “ Captain, you 
are an assassin." 

Rurico took a step forward. 

“ One step more, and you are a dead man ! ” 
exclaimed Serafin. 

Rurico halted and thought for a moment. 
Then he said something in his own tongue ; 
only a word, but in a tone so terrible that all 
the sailors turned towards him filled with fear. 

He was transformed. 

. He uncovered his head and threw it back 
with supreme arrogance. He parted his blue 
tunic at the throat, exposing a red shield 
crossed by a yellow ribbon. His eyes flashed 
fire, his mouth contracted with fury under his 
diabolical smile, while his whole appearance 
disclosed so fiendish and bloodthirsty a nature 
that Serafin was prepared for the worst. 


164 


Brunhilde, or 


When the sailors saw the mysterious insignia 
on the captain’s breast, they threw their caps 
in the air, giving a thundering “ hurrah! ” 

Rurico then pronounced in the tone of an 
harangue, several words unintelligible to the 
musician. 

The crew gave another shout and rushed 
upon Serafin, who in a moment saw himself 
surrounded with uplifted daggers. 

The captain meanwhile covered the yellow 
badge, as though he feared it might be seen 
by others. 

Serafin, pressed, surrounded, lost, fired a 
shot in the air, realizing that the moment had 
arrived for carrying out the project' he had in 
mind when he came on deck. 

The sailors drew back a step, looking at 
each other to see if any of them were wounded. 

At that instant screams were heard from below. 

Serafin did not remove his eyes from a cer- 
tain hatchway. 

Finally the person he had hoped to see ap- 
peared — a tall, beautiful girl, with blue eyes 
and locks of gold. 


The Last Act of Norma. 165 

It was the Daughter of Heaven. 

The old Count Gustavo followed. 

The crew turned to the captain as though 
awaiting orders. One word from Rurico and 
they lowered their daggers. 

Serafi'n was devouring with his eyes the 
enchanting woman who had saved him from 
death. 

Pale and incensed, she stood a picture of 
beauty, an ermine mantle hastily thrown 
about her, her eyes fixed on Rurico while 
with one hand she pointed to Serafi'n. 

The captain started to speak to her in his 
own language. 

“ Lies and calumnies will be all that you 
will utter,” interrupted Serafin in Italian. 

Sefiora,” he added, addressing the lovely 
woman; “Sir,” he continued, facing Gustavo, 
“ bear witness, that from this moment until 
we reach Lapland I hold Count Rurico de 
Cdlix, captain of this ship, responsible for my 
life. If I die during the voyage, he is my 
assassin and I denounce him now.” 

It would be impossible to depict the anger 


i66 


Brunhilde^ or 


which appeared on the captain’s face or the 
smile on the lips of the Daughter of Heaven. 

She looked at Serafin as he ceased speaking, 
and, waving her hand sweetly towards him, 
descended to her cabin as though fleeing from 
Rurico de Calix. 

Gustavo followed her. 

Serafin threw one supreme glance to Heaven, 
in which all his gratitude, happiness and love 
were blended, and turned to go below. 

The crew separated to allow him to pass, 
and Rurico followed him with his eyes, until 
he was out of sight. Then a terrible anxiety, 
a blind fury, a frightful madness took posses- 
sion of him, which he gradually overcame as he 
went with a slow step towards his cabin. On 
entering it, that habitual smile that foretold 
so many evils, returned to his lips. 


The Last Act of Norma. 


167 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE SEA A DOUBLE-BASS. 

ERAFiN was happy, notwithstanding 
the intense cold, for he had not only 
conquered the captain, but had en- 
tirely disarmed him. He now had nothing to 
fear and much to hope. 

He passed that day wrapped in the sweetest 
thoughts. “ She is here ! ” he thought. “ At 
my side! With me! Not ten steps from this 
cabin ! She has saved my life after twice 
warning me of danger ! She loves me ! I 
cannot doubt it ! But I must see her again ; 
I must speak to her ; tell her that for her sake 
alone I am taking this voyage. I must know 
what remains for me to suffer; what I can 
hope from her love ; what I must do so as 
never to be separated from her." 





Brunhilde^ or 


1 68 

But in spite of his impatience, Serafin could 
do nothing but await events. He knew it to 
be so and therefore ceased tormenting himself 
with useless conjectures. 

He retired at twilight and was trying to get 
to sleep, when he was startled by a loud, 
thundering roar. 

The ship gave a frightful lurch. 

At the same time he heard a great commo- 
tion on deck. The commands of the captain 
were heard above the fury of the tempest. 

“A hurricane has struck us,” he cried, 
jumping up and dressing as best he could. 

The waves roared frightfully as they dashed 
against the sides of the ship. The wind 
whistled through the rigging, imitating shrieks, 
laments and imprecations. 

Serafin, alarmed, hurried up on deck. 

The most complete darkness reigned, broken 
at times by flashes of lightning, and the lights 
from lanterns hung here and there. 

It was raining, thundering and lightening. 
The ocean glistened under the electric streaks 
like the eyes of an enormous monster. Sky 


The Last Act of Norma. 169 

and space, all, was a chaos of menaces and 
horrors. The waves swept the decks. In the 
centre of that picture, in the midst of that 
fury, of that devastation, Serafin beheld 
Rurico, by the light of the incessant flashes, 
standing alone at the stern, one hand on the 
wheel, his trumpet in the other, facing the 
elements, wet to the skin by the sea and rain, 
heedless of the danger, supreme, radiant, sub- 
lime. It was his hour ! The thunder broke 
above him ; the sea roared at his feet like a 
hungry lion ; the ship beat and dashed upon 
the waves like a serpent on rocks. 

But the bark was his : he was guiding it, 
was driving it, stopping it, as an Arab does 
his horse. 

He was the very soul of the tempest ; at 
one moment enveloped in the darkness, at 
another, revealed by the lightning. 

He was truly magnificent. 

Notwithstanding his jealousy, Serafin felt 
forced to admire him. 

“ If she should see him now," he said to 
himself anxiously, “ she might admire him too." 


Brunhilde, or 


170 

At this thought, he remembered the terror 
and anguish that the Daughter of Heaven 
must be suffering in the midst of this terrible 
storm ; he realized that this perhaps might be 
their last hour. 

He trembled from head to foot ; but he 
feared alone for her. 

Perhaps it was also for her sake that Rurico 
exhibited that wonderful bravery. 

“ If he will only save her,” thought Serafin, 
“ I would hate him less.” 

Thinking thus he had instinctively approach- 
ed her cabin. 

A cry struck his ears in which he recognized 
her voice. 

Then he did not hesitate. 

Quick as thought he descended the hatch- 
way. When he reached the captain’s cabin, he 
stopped an instant, astonished at what he heard. 

The cry was that of the Daughter of Heaven, 
but it was not one of terror, but a melodious 
echo, a wave of harmony. She was singing 
with the storm. Magnificent accompaniment 
for such a voice ! 


The Last Act of Norma, 17 1 

Remember that we have said that the sea 
was a double-bass. 

But what was she singing? She was singing 
the last act of Norma. 

For a moment Serafin stood transfixed. 

Never was anything so sublime as that angel 
voice accompanied by the ocean’s roar. Never 
anything so heroic as that artistic inspiration 
in the midst of such danger ; nothing so awful 
as that profane song responding to the anger 
of the Almighty ; nothing so sweet as Serafin’s 
tender apprehension for her safety in that hour 
of death. 

He did not hesitate a moment, but opened 
the stained glass door through which came the 
sound of that divine voice, and entered a lux- 
urious ante-chamber with another glass door, 
behind which, a faint light shone. 

He stopped then, as though it were desecra- 
tion to proceed. 

But a quivering of the ship more terrible 
than before, a whistle of the wind more dismal, 
a more violent clamor of the sea, reminded him 
that he must save that girl’s life or die at her side. 


1 72 Brunhilde^ or 

Then he pushed aside the second door and 
entered. 

At the end of the apartment, her back to 
the door, sat the Daughter of Heaven before 
the piano. 

She was singing those divine words : — 

“ Cual cor tradisti, 

Cual cor perdesti, 

Quest’ ora borrenda 
Ti manifesti.” 


The Last Act of Norma^ 




CHAPTER X. 


BRUNHILDE. 


HE clamor that reigned in the ship 
was great, and such was the noise of 
the storm, that the Daughter of Hea- 
ven did not perceive Serafin’s entrance, and 
continued singing. 

Our hero trembled with love and devotion. 

The room into which he had dared to pene- 
trate was worthy to have figured in Cleo- 
patra's galley, when she rowed up the Nile 
with the conqueror of the world. 

But Seraffn had eyes alone for her whom he 
worshipped. She was dressed in a long, green 
velvet gown, which showed to perfection the 
youthful charms of her lovely form. Her 
golden curls, imprisoned in a Greek cap of vel- 
vet, stitched with pearls, fell about her neck. 

On her beautiful hands was one single ring, 


1/4 


Brunhilde^ or 


certainly a very peculiar one. It was a nar- 
row silver hoop, with a flat ruby, in the shape 
of a shield, crossed by a light band of gold ; 
a copy, perhaps, of the hidden insignia worn 
by Rurico beneath his blouse. 

As soon as the young -girl ceased singing, 
Serafin, who had remained standing near the 
door, approached her and, falling upon his 
knees at her side, exclaimed : 

“ Forgive me ! ” 

Startled, she turned and beheld the musician 
at her feet. 

The storm was raging more madly than 
before. 

The Leviathan shook from stem to stern, 
like a wild beast in it’s death agony. 

“You here!” she exclaimed in Italian, 
turning upon Serafin an indefinable glance. 

“ We are in great danger, Seflora,” answered 
he, in the language she had used, “and I wish, 
to save you or die with you.” 

“ I know that we may perish,” answered she ; 
“ you found me taking my leave of the world, 
but rise and return to your cabin. Do not add 


The Last Act of Norma. 175 

■ * 

one danger more to those which ^ surround 
us.” 

“ What are dangers to me, so that you live,? 
Did I not encounter them this morning? Am 
I not resolved to fight them unto death, or to 
free you from that man ? ” 

The Daughter of Heaven trembled at these 
words, and exclaimed, severely : 

“ Who gives you the right to think that I 
wish to be freed from anyone ? To-day, you 
made Rurico de Calix responsible for your 
life. I, now, make you responsible for his.” 

Serafin felt humbled to the dust. 

“ Then you love him ? ” he said, desperately. 

“ I belong to him,” answered the young girl, 
looking fixedjy and with dignity at Serafin. 
“ I belong to him and he to me. His life is 
mine. If he dies at your hands, I ought to die 
knowing it ; and should I die first, he would 
demand satisfaction of Heaven and Earth. I 
am not mistress of my life, it is his.” 

Serafin, who had dreamed so much of her 
love- for him, was unnerved at stumbling so 
soon against the barrier of despair. 


Briinhilde^ or 


176 

“ Seftora, Rurico de Calix shall live,” he said, 
in a hoarse, hopeless voice, taking a step 
towards the door. 

She knitted her brow as if suffering, and 
made a movement as though to speak, as 
though to detain him. Then she changed her 
mind and let him go. But seeing him near 
the door she exclaimed in a strange manner : 
^ “You have not quite understood me.” 

Serafin turned and drew near her. 

“ Pity me ! ” he said, mournfully. 

“ Of what were you thinking when you were 
leaving me ? ” she asked. 

“ I was thinking, Senora, that I belonged to 
nobody ; that nobody belonged to me ; that 
my life was my own and that no one would ask 
Heaven or Earth to account for my death ; 
that there are men more fortunate than I.” 

“ Do not envy his lot,” replied the girl, 
gloomily. 

“ Oh ! tell me at once ! ” exclaimed Serafin. 

“ I tell you that you must, live.” 

“ But far from you,” murmured Serafin, dis- 
consolately. 


The Last Act of Norma. ' 177 

Far from me ; very, very far.” 

“ Oh ! To live thus is death.” 

“ To live is to love,” answered the young girl. 

“Ah!” sighed he, “but to love without 
hope is to suffer too much.” 

“ To suffer for those we love is a happiness 
greater than that of the grave.” 

She spoke these words with such evident 
pain, that Serafin believed they contained a 
sentiment of love for him. 

“T detained you when you were going,” con- 
tinued she, as though to extinguish the hope 
she had seen in his eyes, “ because I cannot 
but feel that you have some right to my con- 
sideration. I know that you have persevered 
in this absurd voyage solely on my account, 
and I saw your danger this morning. But in 
the name of that love, of those sacrifices which 
I have cost you, I repeat that you must live, 
that you must go far from me, that you must 
forget me.” 

“But how?” said the musician, bitterly. 
“Would you be able to forget me? Does for- 
getfulness exist? ” 


178 Brunhilde, or 

The Daughter of Heaven regarded him in- 
tently. 

“ Believe it so,” she murmured. 

“ Ah ! ” said he, “ then you do not love me.” 

“ What imports an impossible love to you ? ” 

“ It would give me strength to leave you.” 

^‘You would not have it,” answered the girl, 
sadly. 

“ Ah ! but you ? ” 

“ I belong, or I must belong to the Jarl de 
C^lix. Do not ask more.” 

“Well, Seflora,” said Serafin coldly, “ then 
you have fooled me. The captain was right, 
you have no soul.” 

The young girl raised her eyes and looked 
at him intently : 

“You judge well,” she replied, smiling bit- 
terly. 

Serafin turned pale and raised his hand to 
his heart. 

A tear glistened in her eyes, but she took no 
pains to conceal it or to wipe it away. She 
allowed it to course down her cheek as though 
in answer to Serafin’s accusation. 


The Last Act of Norma. 179 

He saw that mysterious sadness, and said : 

“You suffer, Sefiora. Why, if you do not 
love me ? ” 

“ You are very cruel,” replied the girl, sadly. 

“ But that tear. Is it a promise ? Dcr you 
bid me hope ” 

“ If I did so, I should commit a sacrilege.” 

Serafin felt a new wave of bitterness. 
When it had passed, he bowed to her and 
turned again to leave ; but a fearful lurch of 
the vessel threw him back. The strained tim- 
bers creaked in a horrible manner and the 
noise of the storm was more furious than 
before. 

The Daughter of Heaven fell on her knees. 

Serafin hastened to support her and led her 
to the sofa. “ We are wrecked,” she cried. 
“ Go to your cabin. The captain, and another 
whom I love as a father, will come here when 
all is lost. They will wish to perish at my side.” 

“To die !” exclaimed the artist. “And I, 
Sefiora ? And I ? ” 

At this moment the floor of the cabin was 
flooded with water. 


i8o 


Brunhilde^ or 


“You will die far from me, as you should 
have lived,” responded the young girl, stretch- 
ing out her hand to Serafin. “ Good-bye ! 
Good-bye ! ” 

“Oh! this cannot be!’' exclaimed the 
unhappy lover. 

“ Good-bye, Serafin ! ” repeated she, seeing 
that the water was rising. 

“Ah! You call me by name!” exclaimed 
the artist, pressing the trembling hand of the 
lovely girl. “ One word more — you see that 
we must die — one word — one look of love. 
Tell me your name — tell me that you love 
me ! ” 

“ Go, Serafin, go. You must not die at my 
side ! The captain is coming ! It is the last 
moment. Get a boat ! fie youself to a 
plank ! Anything ! Only save yourself ! I 
beg! I implore ! ” 

“Your name, Sefiora ! Your name, that I 
may bless it in the hour of death.” 

There was a pause. Then, lifting her face, 
covered with blushes, she said, firmly : 

“ Brunhilde. Wait ^ — Oh ! what would I 


The Last Act of Norma, i8i 

not give to know for a certainty that we are to 
die to-night? " 

“ Why? ” exclaimed Serafin, appalled. 

“ So as to tell you,” she cried,, in a flood of 
tears, “ how unjust you are to me.” 

^‘Ah!” cried Serafin, “now let death 
come ! ” And taking her in his arms, in wild 
delirium, he looked toward the cabin door as 
though defying the tempest. 

“ Let me go, Serafin,” murmured she. 

“ Good-bye, Brunhilde ! ” exclaimed Serafin, 
pressing his lips to hers in a mad embrace. 
“ If we are saved from death, let me see you 
once more : it will be our last.” 

“ I swear it ! ” answered she. “ Now, go ! ” 
she added, freeing herself from his arms. 

“ Good-bye ! ” he murmured, separating 
from her, and extending a hand toward her, as 
though to lessen the distance between them. 

“ Good-bye ! ” whispered Brunhilde, when 
she saw him disappear. 


Brunhilde^ or 


182 


CHAPTER XL 

THEY ARRIVE. 



|HEN Serafin reached the deck, the 
storm was at its height. He shrunk 
U back involuntarily when he saw the 
fearful picture the bark presented. Notwith- 
standing her excellent construction and 
long narrow hull, intended to ride out the 
fiercest gales, she had suffered severely. 
Broken blocks and tackle bestrewed the deck ; 
bruised and injured sailors clung to the rigging ; 
others with hatchet and hammer were cutting 
away wreckage and repairing damage. 

In the midst of this ruin and destruction he 
saw Rurico, everywhere at once, anticipating 
all, ordering all, like a Titan, like a genius. 

Gustavo was at the helm. 

Serafin, overcome with an intense anguish, 
for he saw nothing in the swamping of the 




The Last Act of Norma, 183 

ship but the death of Brunhilde, went over to 
the old man and said to him in French : 

“ Is there any hope ? Tell me, for God’s sake ! ” 

“We shall be saved, thanks to that man,” 
answered Gustavo, pointing to Rurico. 

Rurico was too much engaged to notice Sera- 
fin, who, quieted by the old count’s words, went 
to his cabin, filled anew with hope and passion. 

Two hours afterward the tempest was over. 

Serafin blessed the captain and the sailors 
at each thought that, through their efforts, 
Brunhilde’s life had been saved. But there 
was still another thought which outweighed that 
of thankfulness. 

“/ swear it !'" — that promise of the 
Daughter of Heaven to see him again should 
they survive the storm. 

This thought was uppermost in his mind 
throughout that day. 

Without encountering other dangers or 
adventures, without again seeing the captain 
or knowing anything of the Daughter of 
Heaven, without even hearing her sing, Sera- 
fin passed fifteen mortal days. 


Brunhilde^ or 


184 

The only thing that occurred of note in the 
interim was, that one morning, on awakening, 
he found at the side of his bed a magnificent 
costume of furs such as the captain wore. 

He did not doubt for a moment that this 
valuable gift came from Brunhilde. 

Truly a valuable gift, for though near the 
month of June the cold was frightful. 

Serafin noticed that the nights were visibly 
shortening, that in the last few days there had 
hardly been three hours of darkness and but 
two or three of twilight. 

Finally, at ten o’clock, (one afternoon, we 
might say, because it was so light), the Levia- 
than stopped and the musician heard the noise 
of chains and the dropping of the anchor. 

“We have arrived,” thought he. “Albert! 
Albert ! I am about to owe to you my 
supreme happiness or my greatest misery. 
I owe all to your mad project.” 

He commenced then to pack his luggage, 
and as soon as that was done he went on deck. 

They were off Hammerfest. 


The Last Act of Norma. 


185 


CHAPTER XII. 

SERAFIN AND HIS LUGGAGE. 

AMMERFEST is called by the natives 
and by travellers the Venice of the 
North, because, like the beautiful 
bride of the Adriatic, it is traversed by canals 
in such a manner that one cannot pass from 
one quarter to another without the aid of boats 
or high bridges. The waters of the lagoons 
are celebrated for their transparency, so that 
in the deepest places one can see the fish and 
sandy bottom as though through crystal. 

The canals are frozen throughout the greater 
part of the year, when sleighs and iron tipped 
sticks are substituted for the boats ; but when 
the real polar winter sets in, no one leaves his 
house, and there are quarters entirely covered 
in with glass, in which fifty or sixty families 
may live throughout the season without in 



Brunhilde, or 


1 86 

any way being exposed to the elements. The 
rest of the population pass almost the entire 
winter in enormous caf^s where the consump- 
tion of punch and tobacco is absolutely as- 
tounding. 

The Laplanders live a greater part of their 
time in an atmosphere of smoke, inebriety and 
the most complete inactivity, as though each 
one of those cafes were a vessel and each win- 
ter a long, long voyage. 

To the north there is a high range of moun- 
tains, which protects the inhabitants from 
the cold winds of that side, and which 
for the same reason renders the summers 
milder. 

Another advantage which they enjoy is that 
by a prodigy of nature the Hammer/est river 
never freezes. 

From early spring until late autumn the 
safe and sheltered port, the highest civil- 
ized point in Europe, is filled with trading ves- 
sels from Denmark, Finland and the White 
Sea. 

You have before you, the city where our 


The Last Act of Norma. 187 

hero was about to land. Two porters carried 
his luggage to a launch, and invited him to 
enter. Rurico had not yet appeared on 
deck. 

Serafin left the Leviathan with a heavy heart, 
without bidding farewell to any one, fearing all 
and not knowing what to hope. 

''•I swear it ! ” he kept repeating to himself. 
“ She will keep her oath to me. I shall see 
her again. But what in Heaven’s name shall 
I do meanwhile ? ” 

In truth he did not know. 

He stepped ashore, alone in the world. No 
one understood his language and he knew 
nothing whatever of the city in which he 
found himself. 

The sailors unloaded his luggage and depos- 
ited it carefully on the sandy beach. They 
then returned to the ship. 

Serafin tried to make them understand that 
he wanted a carriage, a hotel, a porter, an in- 
terpreter — everything: but they touched their 
thumbs to their teeth to indicate that they did 
not understand his needs. He sat down on a 


i88 


Brunhilde, or 


box that contained his books and papers, and 
commenced to think. 

His reflections resulted in nothing ; and every 
time he thought, he accomplished the same re- 
sult. 

The sun set in tne south, ending its course 
in a perfectly diagonal line. 

Night came on, and with it a terrible cold. 

The musician never removed his eyes from 
the Leviathan, 

For what did he hope? 

He did not know himself. 

The darkness was closing in when he saw a 
gondola leave the ship and point toward land. 

“She is coming,” thought he. “Now if I 
were a hero of romance, I would run faster 
than that gondola. I would reach the city by 
land and discover where my love is housed. 
Ah ! it is infamous ! He calculated every- 
thing. He counted on my troubles and my 
poverty. I do not know what to do. I would 
willingly lose my violin, my music, all my 
property to follow her, to find her again. But 
suppose that she does not wish me to follow 


The Last Act of Norma. 


89 


her ? It might be an imprudence which would 
compromise her. Suppose she has some other 
plan.” 

Meanwhile the gondola passed along the 
shore directed towards Hammerfest. 

A man and woman occupied the little boat. 

“ Brunhilde and Count Gustavo ! ” exclaimed 
Serafin. “Thank God, Rurico is not with 
them.” 

They passed within three hundred yards of 
the point where he was sitting. 

He waved his handkerchief, frantically. 

Another from the gondola waved in return. 

The night was quickly advancing. 

“ It is she ! she who answers me ! ” exclaimed 
Serafin, with extreme happiness. 

The boat disappeared slowly toward the 
north. 

The poor musician sank back heaving a bitter 
sigh. 

The night drew her shadowy curtains close. 


Brunhilde^ or 


190 


CHAPTER XIII. 



AS VIEWED FROM THE SECOND BOAT. 

ET US return to the Leviathan. 

While Serafin was thus sitting alone, 
humiliated, in the midst of his lug- 
gage, a little boat, narrow as a Japanese canoe, 
left the ship and pulled toward that same shore 
carrying two other persons. 

At the same moment the moon rose slowly 
and sadly in the north. 

The passengers were Rurico and the little 
negro who had brought the two notes to Ser- 
afin. 

Rurico with his sailor’s sight discerned 
the sad picture which the Spaniard made 
on the deserted shore, and ordered his 
oarsmen to near that point without unnec- 
essary noise so that he might ascertain what 
the matter was. 



' The Last Act of Norma. 19 1 

Serafin did not notice the espionage of which 
he was the object, nor the gradual approach of 
the boat ; but Rurico and the little negro saw 
him distinctly. 

At that moment the unhappy musician drew 
a revolver whose barrel shone in the moonlight. 

The little darky trembled, and his great eyes 
dilated as he pointed toward that discouraged, 
abandoned figure who seemed intent upon sui- 
cide. 

Rurico’s smile denoted that the same thought 
had evidently passed through his mind. 

“ Row on ! " he said, quietly, to the oarsmen, 
and the boat receded from the shore. 

The negro kept his eyes fixed on that point 
of the coast where he had seen Serafin ; and 
the captain’s smile broadened. 

Presently a shot was heard in the distance. 

The darky crossed his hands and uttered a 
shriek. 

The count breathed as though relieved of a 
heavy burden, and the boat disappeared in the 
shadows of the night toward where the lights 
shone, and the bustle of the city was heard. 


192 


Brunhildey or 


CHAPTER XIV. 

THE PISTOL SHOT. 

ET US see what had happened. 

The artist was depressed at finding 
himself abandoned ; separated from 
Brunhilde ; without shelter, and without hav- 
ing given the Daughter of Heaven any means 
of finding him. 

He conceived a desperate idea. 

He remembered that in a situation no less 
critical, when his life was in imminent danger, 
it had been saved by discharging a shot from his 
pistol, and he proposed to repeat the experiment. 

His plan was not a bad one. 

“ If there are police,” thought he, they will 
hurry here when they hear the shot. Perhaps 
also there are sympathetic people. If so, they 
may help me. I will give them money in re- 
turn for shelter.” 



The Last Act of Norma, 193 

At this thought, he discharged the revolver 
which he had taken from his pocket. 


194 


Brunhilde^ or 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE RELATION OF THIS PART OF THE STORY 
IS CONFIDED TO A THIRD PERSON. 

ERAFIN had not formed any concep- 
tion of the consequences of that shot. 
In the first place, Rurico entered 
Hammerfest fully convinced that his rival had 
ceased to exist. 

In the second place, an hour had not 
elapsed from the time of the firing of the shot, 
before Serafin’s reflections were disturbed by 
the sounds of steps and voices. 

He turned and saw four men, dressed in a 
peculiar livery, lighting their way with torches 
and carrying a covered litter. 

They were very much disconcerted when 
they saw the musician rise on their 
approach ; and one of them, after salut- 
ing him in the most respectful manner, drew 




The Last Act of Norma. 195 

nearer, raised his lantern, and scanned him 
from head to foot. 

“ These are the police,” thought Serafin. 

The one who had looked him over so care- 
fully started to address him in his native 
tongue, but Serafin signified that he did not 
understand a word. 

The same man then ordered the others to 
take the luggage, while he offered his hand to 
the musician to conduct him to the litter. 

But Serafin indicated that he did not need 
assistance, giving them to understand that 
they could proceed toward the city and that 
he would follow. 

They accordingly set off in that direction, 
and at the end of half an hour reached Ham- 
merfest, where they found a launch awaiting 
them at one of the outer canals. 

They stepped aboard, were rowed through one 
street, turned into another where they passed 
under a bridge, and finally arrived at a square, 
full of small boats, and stopped at the steps of 
a magnificent palace. 

The musician suffered himself to be led. 


96 


Brunhildey or 


He feared or rather hoped something, but he 
could not define what. 

He disembarked at their invitation and, hav- 
ing made signs regarding his luggage, the men 
signified that th.ey would remain there with it. 

“ I wonder if they are robbers ? ” he asked 
himself. 

That one, who had hitherto led and directed 
all the others, took Serafin by the hand, put- 
ting a finger to his lips to impose silence, and 
conducted him through a beautiful garden. 
They then ascended a superb stairway, after 
which they passed through many luxuriously 
furnished rooms and corridors finally entering 
an apartment, obscure but for the moon’s 
light shining through the glass of the mag- 
nificent enclosed balconies. 

“ Where am I ?” thought Serafin. “ Is it a 
dream? No, all this must be the magic work 
of Brunhilde.” 

The unknown man then left him. 

Then a door opened into a lighted room. 
Accustomed to the darkness, he was, at first, 
dazzled. 


The Last Act of Norma. 197 

At the same time he heard an exclamation 
and rapid steps. The figure of a woman 
came hurriedly through the door with a 
lighted candle in her hand. She gave a cry 
at seeing him, and stepped back, frightened. 

“ Serafin ! ” she exclaimed. 

It was Brunhilde. 

Brunhilde ! ” cried he, falling at her feet. 

The young girl was pale ; her hair was dis- 
hevelled, and there were traces of recent tears 
upon her face. She regarded Serafin eagerly, 
placed a trembling hand on his head, as though 
seeking some wound, and murmured softly 
and thankfully : 

“ You live ! Thank God, you are not dead ! ” 

Serafin looked at her in astonishment, not 
comprehending the cause of her delight. 

“ It is just an hour,” said Brunhilde, fever- 
ishly, “ since Aben, my little black page, told 
me that you had shot yourself. Oh ! how 
much I have suffered since then ! ” 

Serafin now understood all. 

“ I had sworn to you to live. You had prom- 
ised that I should see you again,” he added 


198 


Brunhilde^ or 


with much tenderness. “ How could I forget 
my oath and yours? Mine is martyrdom, 
yours was hope. I am here, Brunhilde, 
waiting for you to decide my life and my 
happiness.” 

The young girl wiped away her tears, and 
taking Serafin’s hand led him to a sofa, where 
she fell into profound thought. 

He gazed at her rapturously. 

Some moments passed ; then, raising her 
face, stamped with a sad resignation, she said : 

‘‘ It is time that you knew all. I shall not 
be the one to bid you leave me. You, your- 
self, shall be the judge of what our future con- 
duct should be. Chance has brought us to- 
gether before the time I had intended, but 
we can dispose of a few hours. Listen to the 
story of my life.” 

Serafin was in the seventh heaven of 
delight. He saw misery in the distance, but 
he turned his eyes from it to fix them alone 
on the happy present. 

Brunhilde continued, her hand in his. 

“You are about to hear that which I have 


The Last Act of Norma, 199 

never told to any one except myself in my 
longest hours of solitude. You are about to 
measure the abyss that separates us ; to know, 
in fact, of the deadly serpent that has its coils 
about me, depriving me of everything, liberty, 
happiness, hope.” 

Serafin burned with a desire to know that his- 
tory, which he had so many times conjectured 
in attempting to repel the captain’s calum- 
nies. 

The Daughter of Heaven turned sweetly 
towards him, and in a low, melancholy voice 
commenced the history of her life. 


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The Last Act of Norma, 


203 


CHAPTER I. 


llOU have just arrived at the extreme 
northern point of Norway, the 
region of eternal ice, the land where 
I was born. 

Not very far from Hammerfest, where we 
now are, that is to say in latitude five 
degrees further north than the Arctic Circle, is 
the Castle of Silly. 

“ It is built on a sharp point of rock, with one 
of its stone feet submerged by the waves of 
the sea ; on the other side its base is in a deep 
ravine, the bed of an angry torrent which 
after girdling“^he fortress on the east and 
south plunges into the ocean with a terrible 
roar. 

“To the north rises a gigantic mountain, 
covered with perpetual snows, whose icy steps, 
springing from the moat of the castle, 


204 Brunhildey or 

mount one above another until lost in the 
clouds. 

“Twenty-four years ago, in that abode, 
twenty leagues distant from here, I came into 
the world. 

“ My mother died in giving me birth. 

“My father was Adolphus, Jarl of Silly, 
Knight of the Order of Charles XII. and the 
first revolutionist of my country. 

“When I first knew him, his hair was whi- 
tened by the snows of seventy winters. 

“I was his only child, his consolation, his hap- 
piness. But, as he was constantly traveling or 
engaged in different conspiracies, and no one 
but his brother Gustavo ever came to the cas- 
tle, I spent my childhood and youth in abso- 
lute solitude. My precocity of thought and 
the melancholy nature of my character were 
the immediate results of that solitude and 
isolation. 

“ My own disposition and the instructions of 
my father restrained me from all intercourse 
with the servants of the household, and my old 
nurse, afterward my maid, was extremely deaf, 


The Last Act of Norma, 205 

so that during the absences of the Jarl I 
passed entire months without speaking to any- 
one except my preceptor. 

“ He was a wise old Dane, called Charles Yo, 
a friend of my father, who placed him at my 
side in my seventh year, giving him a home in 
the castle in order to teach me all that I might 
be able to acquire. 

“ Charles Yo had not only traveled over the 
whole of Europe, but had been in America 
with Lafayette, in Egypt with Napoleon, and 
had been banished to Madagascar. 

“ He spoke six or seven languages, painted 
well, and in music and poetry was a true 
genius. 

“ From this arose my desire to travel and to 
visit that land of the south, that Eden pri- 
meval that my master painted, the cradle of all 
the' great artists and poets whom he adored 
and taught me to love — that Italy, that Greece, 
that Spain ! 

“At seventeen, when full of ideas, aspirations 
and dreams, my misfortune was consum- 
mated. 


206 


Brunhildey or 


“ The solitude, the lack of affection, the 
gloomy house in which I lived, and that hard, 
God-forsaken region, weighed upon my heart 
like stones upon a sepulchre. 

“ I thought and suffered ; sadness lengthened 
the hours. I fell into the greatest dejection. 

“ My spirit was entirely prostrated as though 
I had lived as long as my aged, sceptical tutor. 

“ My father attributed this depression to lack 
of vitality ; but Charles Yo, who had created 
my character, knew the reason and prescribed 
the remedy that would cure the evil he had 
done me. 

“ What was his suggestion ? you will ask. 

“ One alone, which was equivalent to the 
whole world — to Heaven even. Music ! 

“ Haydn, Mozart, Cimaroso, Pergolesi, Ros- 
sini, Meyerbeer, Schubert, Weber, Bellini, 
Donizetti. All, Serafin ! All our idols, our 
gods, enchanted that frightful, lugubrious 
castle with their harmonies. 

‘‘ Their immortal works were always before 
me ; their inspired melodies comforted my sad 
heart. 


The Last Act of Norma. 207 

“ Then I was happy. I was resuscitated. I 
was young again after having grown old. 
When I believed myself dead, I felt as if I had 
been born again. I loved — I do not know 
what or whom, but I loved with all my heart. 

“ Music gave me life. 

Later, it gave me your love.” 


2o8 


Brunhilde^ or 


CHAPTER 11. 

O I lived until twenty years of age. 

“ Even that pale, sickly nature 
spoke sweetly to my heart, and 
when the spring arrived I loved to go upon 
the rampart to watch the great polar phenom- 
ena. 

“ The valley of Silly awoke from its lethargy ; 
the torrent commenced to roar ; the ocean 
sighed anew at the base of the fortress ; the 
reindeer grazed in the ravines, and the trees 
offered new branches to the tired raven. 

“ Great icebergs incessantly slid into the ocean 
from the north, passing by the castle like float- 
ing islands fleeing from the torturing cold of 
the Pole. 

“ Those ghostly armies which originated from 
the glacial streams, tumbled over each other 
in their wandering course, producing awful 




The Last Act of Norma. 209 

detonations : one knocked against another, 
stopped an instant, and was overtaken by 
others forming a gigantic mass. That 
immense monolith swept down to the Atlan- 
tic, rugged, formidable, menacing. But a 
single ray of the warm spring sun was suffi- 
cient to wound the colossus, which liquefied 
and insensibly disappeared as a vast cloud 
melts into a shower. 

“ Blessed, blessed Spring! 

“ Blessed breath of the South ! 

“ Blessed the zone in which some day I was to 
meet you, Serafin. 

“ But let us return to the origin of my mis- 
fortunes. 

One evening, (I remember it was the first 
of May), I was walking upon the turreted 
ramparts of Silly. The sun had set to rise 
again in two hours. It was one of those short 
nights which precede our continuous day of 
seven weeks. The evening twilight was still 
in the west and the dawn could also be 
seen. But as at that season the sun sets and 
goes almost due north, it happened that 


210 


Brunhilde^ or 


between those two twilights, whose glow 
merged into one, there shone a third effulgence, 
which blended with the others — the resplen- 
dence of the Aurora Borealis. 

“ I was absorbed in the contemplation of 
these wonders when the sound of distant 
music fell upon my ears. 

“ It came from the gorge where the torrent 
surged. 

“ I looked in that direction and, by the light 
of the dawning day, I saw a mountain fisher- 
man, gorgeously dressed and leaning against a 
^ tall fir tree, with his eyes fixed upon the cas- 
tle. A rifle was at his feet. 

It was he who was playing. 



’ “When the sun came out, one could dis- 
tinguish his long, light, waving hair, his blue 
eyes and white skin ; and a strange thing for 
this country, he was very tall. 

“ It seems that he had haunted the castle for 
many days, and, I know not why, but from 
the very first, he inspired me with an aversion 
which was to turn to hatred. 

Perhaps it was because I always saw him 


The Last Act of Norma. 21 1 

pursuing and killing the birds whose songs most 
delighted me. 

Perhaps it was the audacious expression of 
his immovable face. In fact, his glance not 
only disgusted me, but his very proximity 
inspired me with so much fear that even in 
dreams, that figure, always stationed before the 
castle, pursued me like an evil genius. 

“ He must have noticed my disdain for, when- 
ever I perceived him in the valley, I fled from 
the ramparts ; but notwithstanding that, he 
always returned the following day. 

“ On the occasion I speak of, I was about 
withdrawing from the turret when I discerned, 
toward the sea, a picture which charmed me. 

“ At the foot of the castle, rocking on the 
waves, was a sort of gondola, manned by two 
oarsmen, with a youth sitting in the stern 
playing a Scandinavian harp. 

“ Mysterious instinct of the heart ! That 
youth interested me at once. His black hair 
and eyes, a true singularity among us, and the 
first I had ever seen, attracted my attention at 
once. 


212 


Brunhilde^ or 


“ He was dressed in white like the old Nor- 
wegians, and standing out clearly against his 
tunic was the graceful profile of the harp in 
its golden frame. 

I will not say that it was love that that man 
inspired in my soul, still a virgin to the affec- 
tions ; but I know that I heard his serenade with 
emotion, that I saw him leave with sorrow, 
and that when in the distance he uncovered 
his head to me, I left the rampart as though 
bidding him farewell. 

‘‘ The odious mountaineer was present at the 
scene and did not return for many days. 

“Two weeks passed before I again saw the 
unknown owner of th^^arp. He was not in 
the gondola as before, but on board a beauti- 
ful sloop. It appeared first behind the island 
of Loppen, which is in front of Silly at about a 
league’s distance, and crossed to almost under 
the castle. 

“ The dark youth was in the bow, his gaze 
fixed on me. 

“As he passed Silly he saluted me and I 
returned it. 


The Last Act of Norma. 213 

‘‘At the same moment, came the sound of a 
shot. A sailor who was standing near him, 
fell, wounded. _ 

“ I looked up and down the valley in search 
of the fisherman, for I at once supposed that 
the shot was the result of his jealousy ; but 
he was nowhere to be seen. Meanwhile the 
dark man jumped from the sloop to the shore, 
followed by some sailors ; but although they 
searched the entire valley, rock by rock, bush 
by bush, they could not find the aggressor. * 

“They then returned to the sloop, which 
soon disappeared in a northerly direction. 

“ The last I saw was the smoke of a cannon, 
the report of which resounded in the valley like 
distant thunder. 

“ It is four years since I have seen him, and 
my heart tells me that he has been murdered.” 


214 


Brmihildey or 


CHAPTER III. 

OW, Serafin,” continued Brunhilde, 
in order that you may thoroughly 
understand the rest of my story, let 
us go back a little. You must know that Nor- 
way was originally a portion of the U nited King- 
dom of Denmark, and was ceded to Sweden 
in exchange for Pomerania ; but what you do 
not know is, that the hearts of the Norwegians 
have never favored nor accepted this shameful 
exchange, which put them in the power of 
their traditional enemies, for we bear towards 
our neighbors a deadly hatred. So it is, 
despite the fact that Sweden gave us a very 
liberal government, constituting us a form of 
democracy presided over by a king, the coun- 
try of the great Sverrer — that country which in 
former times had seen its own kings succeed 
each other in Christiania — conspires without 




The Last Act of Nonna. 215 

ceasing to break that compact. And they 
will succeed, Serafin, for each generous village 
intends to acquire its independence. 

“ In order to do so, Norway is undermined 
by a secret society which meets every month 
in small sections for the selection of deputies 
to the clandestine Diet. This congress meets 
annually in Spitzbergen on Northeast Island, 
which is completely uninhabited on account of 
the intense cold. On this island is a great 
subterranean hall where they collect the arms 
and treasures of this immense conspiracy, and 
in which they celebrate the annual session of 
the Norwegian delegates. 

“You can so readily see the importance of 
this revelation, Serafin, that I deem it un- 
necessary to swear you to secrecy. I learned 
it all from my father, who belonged to the 
section of Malenger, a city not far from Silly, 
where the old gentleman went frequently. 
These journeys were apt to last three or four 
days ; but the one upon which he started the 
same day that the sloop passed Silly was pro- 
longed, notwithstanding the fact that they had 


2i6 Brunhilde^ or 

neglected to advise me. I was consequently 
very restless. 

“ On the eighth day of his absence my 
father entered the castle, mounted on a 
strange horse. 

“ He was pale, thinner and with the stamp 
of suffering on his venerable face. 

“ I was horribly frightened, but he quieted 
me, while explaining that he was obliged 
to talk to me in confidence. We were alone, 
and this is the story he related to me: ” 


The Last Act of Norma. 


217 


CHAPTER IV. 

Malenger four 
j riding through 
Bermejo, I fell 

into the hands of bandits. 

“They took me from my horse, tied my 
arms behind me, and forced me to enter a 
cleft in the rocks at the end of which was an 
open space surrounded with caves. 

“ On my arrival there, a masked man, whom 
the other bandits called ‘ Captain,’ approached 
me. 

“ He untied my arms and led me into the 
least repulsive of the caves. 

“ ‘ Be seated,’ he said to me, taking a seat 
himself. 

“ I followed his example. 

“ His voice was youthful, and his manner 
distinguished. ‘Jarl,’ he continued, ‘I sup- 



WAS returning from 
days ago, when, while 
the passes of Mt. 



2i8 Brunhilde^ or 

pose I have somewhat disturbed your peace of 
mind.’ 

“‘Enough!’ I interrupted. ‘If you want 
my money, take it ! ’ And I threw my purse 
at his feet. 

“‘Take back your money,’ said the bandit 
in an altered voice, ‘ we do not discuss that 
here.’ 

“ ‘ Then what do you discuss ? ’ 

“ ‘Your daughter.’ 

“ ‘Brunhilde ! ’ I exclaimed, terrified. 

“ ‘ At last I know her name,’ murmured the 
bandit. 

“ ‘ Kill me ! ’ I replied, without wavering. 

“ ‘ You have said it,’ he replied in a steady, 
calm voice. 

“ I trembled because the fear came over me 
that I was never to see you again. 

“‘One word more,’ added the bandit, 
‘ I love her — and I ask her hand in mar- 
riage.’ 

“ ‘ Who are you ? ’ I asked, startled at such 
boldness. 

“ ‘ Oscar of the Mask.’ 


The Last Act of Norma, 219 

‘‘‘You!’ I exclaimed, horrified at finding 
myself before the ‘ Boy-Pirate,’ as the sailors 
call him. 

“ Until then, although I ought to have 
suspected it, seeing the masked bandit, I had 
not thought of such a thing ; but it was be- 
cause I had never heard that the terrible 
corsair made journeys on land. 

“‘You have three days to decide,’ he said, 
rising. ‘Your daughter or death!’ and he 
left the cave, locking it with several bolts. 

“ I neither replied nor beseeched, for I knew 
that the Boy-Pirate was inflexible ; but I did 
not sleep that night. By morning I had con- 
ceived a desperate plan, useless perhaps, but 
the only one left me in that critical situa- 
tion. 

“ ‘ I have forty hours,’ said I, to myself ; ‘ this 
ground is soft and damp, and back of the open 
space is another cleft. I will try to escape.’ 

“With astonishing zeal, and aided by my 
nails and spurs, I started to dig a hole, a half- 
yard square, at the end of that deep, dark cav- 
ern. 


220 


Brunhilde^ or 


the first streak of dawn on the fatal 
day, I had excavated about seven yards — all, 
too, without either eating, drinking or sleep- 
ing. 

“ Desperation aided me, and the softness of 
the earth helped my efforts. 

“ At mid-day I first heard the sound of the 
torrent, whose bed is in the cleft for which I 
was hunting. 

“ I eontinued my task with renewed ardor, 
and my exertions were about over, when I 
heard the clanking of the prison bolts. 

“ I came quickly out of my tunnel, arranged 
my hair and clothes as best I could, and waited 
with horrible anxiety. 

The door opened, giving entrance to a man. 

It was Oscar. 

“ He was masked, as usual. 

“ ‘ The three days are up,’ he said, showing 
me his watch. 

“ ‘ Well ! what of it ? ’ I answered, interposing 
myself between him and the tunnel. But my 
precautions were unnecessary, for the darkness 
at that point prevented his seeing my work. 


The Last Act of Norma. ' 221 

^“'You know what it means,’ answered the 
corsair. ‘ Brunhilde, or death.’ 

“ At these words, my whole body grew cold. 

“ ‘Answer quickly,’ added the pirate. 

“A sudden idea crossed my mind. 

“ ‘ I have not yet decided,’ I answered, ‘ give 
me one night more.’ 

“ My idea was to finish the excavation and 
escape. 

“ ‘ You have had time enough to reflect. 
Choose ! ’ replied the bandit. 

“ ‘ Death, then ! ’ I answered. 

“ ‘ So be it,’ said he, coldly. ‘ I can get your 
daughter without your consent.’ 

“We left the cave, crossed the open space, 
and reached the cleft. 

“ I looked, behind and saw that nobody was 
following. 

He was sufficient unto himself. 

“ He wished to be judge and executioner, as 
I was judge and victim. 

“ What a picture that, my daughter ! 

“ He with a pistol in each hand. 

“ I unarmed, 


222 


Brunhildey or 


“ He, young, agile, strong. 

“ I, old and weak after three sleepless days 
of fasting. 

“ ‘ On your knees ! ’ exclaimed the pirate. 

“ I knelt, putting my thoughts on God and 
you. 

“‘For the last time!’ added the pirate, 
‘ choose between peace or death.’ 

“ ‘ Curses be upon you ! ’ I responded, cover- 
ing my eyes with my hands. 

“ The bandit leveled one pistol. 

“ ‘ Do you hope to arouse my pity ? ’ he said, 
sarcastically. ‘ What idiocy ! ’ 

“ ‘ Fire ! ’ I cried with my last spark of cour- 
age. 

“ A heavy detonation almost deafened me, 
but strange to say I was not wounded. 

“ The first astonishment over, I raised my 
head, and beheld the masked bandit. roll to the 
bottom of the caflon. 

“ I looked about me, unable to comprehend 
the situation, when I beheld a young man of 
graceful presence approaching me with all the 
speed of his vigorous sorrel. 


The Last Act of Nortna. 223 

“ He alighted, placed his still smoking car- 
bine on the ground, and taking me in his arms, 
exclaimed : 

“ ‘ I arrived just in the nick of time.’ 

‘ I owe my life to you ! ’ I answered, strain- 
ing him to my heart. ‘ How can I ever repay 
you? ’ 

‘ Sir,’ he answered with dignity, ‘ I did not 
save you for reward. I was returning from 
Malenger by this obscure road, fearing that 
the bandits of Mt. Bermejo might rob me of 
important papers I carry, when I saw you 
on your knees before your assassin. God 
helped me to save an innocent person, and 
purge the earth of a sinner.’ 

“ ‘ Ah ! I shall never forget it,’ I replied 
embracing him again. ‘Tell me who you are. 
You see before you a father who owes to you 
the happiness of again embracing an adored 
daughter.’ 

“ ‘ I know your voice,’ exclaimed the stranger. 

‘ I have heard it only lately — to think of 
it ! ’ And raising his hand to his forehead, he 
made one of the signs of the Malenger Order. 


224 


Brunhilde, or 


“ ‘ You are not mistaken,’ I answered. ‘ We 
are brothers.’ 

‘ I heard your speech,’ he replied, ^but as 
all of us were masked I did not recognize you. 
Yes, we are brothers.’ 

“‘And friends,’ I added, with all the enthu- 
siam of my soul. ‘ I am Adolphus, Jarl of 
Silly.’ 

“ ‘ You ! ’ exclaimed my preserver in extreme 
surprise. ‘ Then, my God, I thank thee ! ’ 

“ ‘ I do not understand you,’ I answered on 
seeing that extraordinary emotion. 

“ ‘ Ah ! sir ! ’ answered he, ‘ why hide it 
from you? I am Rurico, Jarl de Cdlix. My 
castle is a leaguer’s distance from yours, and — 
I love your daughter. You spoke a moment 
since of recompense. You know my family — 
well, then — not for the service I have rendered 
you, but at your feet I beg you for the hand 
of Brunhilde.’ 

“ That eloquent love, the occasion, the con- 
sciousness of your joy at again seeing me after 
so many perils, all, in fact, caused me not to 
hesitate. 


The Last Act of Norma. 225 

“‘She shall be your wife,’ I answered, 
extending my hand to him. 

“ ‘ Swear it to me, sir.’ 

“ ‘ I swear it,’ said I, pointing heavenward. 

“ ‘ Ah ! I am happy ! ’ he exclaimed, kissing 
my hand gratefully. 

“ ‘ Now listen/ he continued, solemnly. ‘ I 
am the messenger from Malenger to go to 
Spitzbergen to leave this year’s proceedings 
and all the documents collected to-day. You 
know the danger of the trip which I must 
commence this very hour. My yacht awaits 
me in the bay behind this mountain. If I am 
delayed, let Brunhilde wait for me ; but if a 
year passes and I have not returned — she is 
free.’ 

“ ‘ I swear it,’ said I again, every moment 
more prepossessed by my savior. 

“ He then made me mount his horse and, 
leading him by the bridle, we walked together 
to the sea-shore. There a yacht was awaiting 
him. 

“ I did not press him to come to Silly for I 
knew the urgency of his dangerous errand. 


226 


Brunkilde^ or 


“ We parted with tenderness, he forcing me 
to accept his sorrel ; and here I am, my 
daughter, troubled and anxious until I know 
whether or not you accede to my oath. 

“ ‘ Ah ! my dear father,’ said I, kissing his 
hand, ‘can you doubt it? My heart loves, 
without even knowing him, the one who has 
saved your precious life to me, and, though he 
should be my greatest enemy, I swear to 
God, and by the mother I have lost, that 1 will 
be the wife of Rurico de CdlixV' 


The Last Act of Norma. 


227 


CHAPTER V. 

IVE months passed without anything 
of note occurring in the castle. 

“ The sun completely disappeared 
and the cold was more intense than ever 
before ; my father was suffering from infirmi- 
ties consequent to old age, and was commenc- 
ing to lean toward the tomb. 

“My Uncle Gustavo came to live with us, 
and Charles Yo returned to Copenhagen, I hav- 
ing finished my education. 

“ I never again saw the mountain fisherman ; 
the bard of the harp also ceased to appear in 
the vicinity of Silly, and Rurico de Calix did 
not come to claim me. 

“ Another month passed, during which my 
father, weaker and more depressed, did not 
leave his bed. 

“ Then came a letter, which read as follows : 




228 


Brunhilde, or 


Jarl : 

I have not forgotten your oath. 

I trust that you remember it as well. 

I have just returned from Spitzbergen. I do not know 
when I shall be able to present myself in order to claim my 
rights, but it will be within the stated time. 

As life is uncertain I wish that you would exact from your 
daughter and from her uncle, who I suppose will be her 
guardian when you pass away, the renewal of your pledge. 

We will thus proceed more peacefully, you in death and I in 
life. • • 

Rurico de CAlix. 

*‘The coarseness of this letter greatly affected 
my father. 

“ As for me, it could do no less than inspire 
me with a feeling of resentment toward the 
writer. 

‘‘ But my father and I had taken an oath 
which we were bound to fulfil. 

“ More than this, the noble old man, mis- 
trustful after seeing the disgust the letter 
had caused all of us who heard it, summoned 
my uncle and me to his bedside one night and 
made us swear again to comply with our oaths. 

“ His death seemed almost imminent when 
he suddenly commenced to recuperate. 


The Last Act of Norma, 2^9 

“ The return of spring restored him to health, 
and by the middle of April he went out for 
the first time in eleven months, saying he was 
going to Malenger, and would be absent four 
days. 

“ My poor, poor father ! His dead body was 
all that ever returned. 

“Yes, Serafin ! His body, bathed in blood 
and covered with wounds. 

“ Some shepherds found him in the defiles of 
Mt. Bermejo, and brought him home to the 
castle. 

“ Oscar of the Mask had been avenged.” 


230 


Brunhilde^ or 


CHAPTER VI. 

IFTEEN days after my father’s 
death, an elegant gentleman pre- 
sented himself at Silly. 

“ My uncle and I passed into the Great Hall, 
and gave orders that he be admitted. 

“ The doors opened and Rurico, Jarl de CMix, 
was announced. My uncle advanced to re- 
ceive him. 

“ As for me, I thought I should die, for in 
him I recognized the mountaineer whom I so 
hated. 

“ It was the captain of the Leviathan, whom 
you know. 

‘ Madam,’ said he, bowing coldly to me, 
‘ if we did not mourn the death of the 
Jarl of Silly, he would present me to 
you as your most humble and passionate 
admirer.’ 




The Last Act of Norma. 231 

said I, ‘accept my gratitude for hav- 
ing once saved my father’s life.’ 

“ ‘ I hear your words with so much the greater 
pleasure since I am reminded of others no less 
grateful of the dead Jarl,’ Rurico answered, 
bowing to me again. 

‘‘‘And those words?’ murmured I with 
terror. 

“ ‘ Are you ignorant of them ? ’ he replied, 
quickly. ‘ They were a pledge.’ 

“ ‘ I know it.’ 

“ ‘ Then madam, I hope — ’ 

“ ‘ Well, Jarl,’ I replied, not knowing what I 
was saying, ‘ but you see — ’ 

“‘What do you desire?’ he interrupted, 
becoming pale. 

“ ‘ What do you ? ’ 

“ ‘ With the greatest respect, I ask Senor 
Gustavo de Silly for the hand of his ward, the 
Jarlesa Brunhilde.’ 

“ ‘ And I, sir,’ answered my uncle, ‘ give it 
to you with the greatest pleasure, and so ful- 
fil my oath.’ 

“ ‘ I would also dare to request,’ added Cdlix, 


Brunhilde, or 


232 

‘that our marriage should be celebrated as 
soon as possible.’ 

“ ‘ You will give us a year,’ replied my uncle, 
‘ for my brother has just died.’ 

“ ‘ That is not the only reason why I desire a 
postponement,’ I interrupted. 

“ Rurico cast an ardent glance towards me. 

“ ‘ I do not love you, Jarl,’ I said haughtily, 
“ and I desire to know you before becoming 
your wife.’ 

“ Rurico showed his anger in his eyes^ 

“ ‘ I love you, madam,’ he murmured in an 
altered tone. ‘ I have loved you for a long 
time, and I again pray you not to postpone 
the day of my happiness.’ 

“‘Jarl,’ I replied with dignity, ‘dates had 
no part in our oath.’ 

“ ‘ Madam,’ replied Rurico, with trembling 
lips, ‘ it would be a contemptible act, if you 
should thus attempt to evade your oath. 
According to that, you might Hvait until your 
hair was white before going to the altar with me.’ 

“‘Sir! you offend me,’ I answered haugh- 
tily. ‘ I only ask for four years.’ 


The Last Act of Norma. 233 

“ ‘ Four years ! ’ he exclaimed indignantly. 

“ ‘ And in the meantime/ said I to my uncle, 
‘ we will travel over Europe as we intended/ 

“ At this, a great change was visible in 
Rurico’s face. 

“ ‘ So be it/ he said, hurriedly. ‘ Four years 
from now, the seventh of May, 18 — / 

“ ‘ Allow me to set the date, Jafl,* said I, 
interrupting him. 

“ ‘ This is the seventh of May, 18 — . On the 
seventh of August, 18 — , I will be your 
wife/ 

“ ‘ Very well, madam,’ he answered, ‘ but, 
you rob me of three more months. I accede 
however. Will you accept my ring ? ’ Say- 
ing which, he gave me this ring, the inscription 
of which I have neyer understood. 

“‘Meanwhile, Jarl,’ said my uncle, ‘you 
might travel with us ; that is, with Brunhilde’s 
consent.’ 

“ ‘ With the greatest pleasure, and if you will 
be good enough to accept it, I will place my 
yacht at your disposal,’ said Rurico. ‘ She is 
called the Leviathan' 


234 


Brunhilde^ or 


“ ‘ We accept your kind offer/ said Gus- 
tavo. 

“ ‘ Then we will start to-morrow/ said I. 

“ ^ Very well/ concluded Cdlix, bowing.” 


The Last Act of Norma. 


235 


CHAPTER VIII. 

OU know the rest, Serafin,” continued 
Brunhilde. “ I have been in Chris- 
tiania, Stockholm, Copenhagen, 
London, Paris, Vienna, Venice, Lisbon and 
Seville. 

“ In some of these cities I have sung, giving 
up to my ambition, and consequently you 
heard me. I should like to go to America, 
but in two months more the four years will 
have passed, and Rurico will call upon me to 
fulfil my oath. I have bowed my head sub- 
missively and followed him to this city. Three 
days hence we leave for Silly, and then good- 
bye, world ! good-bye, hope ! good-bye, all ! 
for I shall be buried alive.” 



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SPITZBERGEN. ' 



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The Last Act of Norma, 


239 


CHAPTER 1. 

SERAFIN AND BRUNHILDE BURN MIDNIGHT 
OIL. 

S Brunhilde progressed in her narra- 
tive, Serafin first turned pale, then 
livid. 

When she had finished, the unhappy lover 
bowed his head in absolute dejection. He 
looked almost ready to die. Brunhilde was 
watching him closely; then taking one of his 
hands in hers, she said in an accent inexpres- 
sibly sweet : 

“I appeal to your heart. What can I 
do?’’ 

“ Marry Rurico de Cdlix — fulfil your oath,” 
groaned the musician hoarsely. 

The Daughter of Heaven sighed deeply, as 
one without hope. 

Some moments of silence passed. 



240 


Brunhilde^ or 


“ And in all these four years — ? ” asked Ser-. 
afin, almost inaudibly. 

“ I have learned to hate him more and 
more,” she interrupted. 

“You must be very unhappy.” 

“ Yes, I am, Serafin.” 

“ Why, this man’s conduct is infamous.” 

“ I know it.” 

“ Contemptible, villainous scoundrel ! ” 

“ Ah ! Hush ! He is to be my husband ! ” 

“ I can prevent it ! ” exclaimed Serafin, ris- 
ing quickly. 

“ No, no, my friend,” said Brunhilde, hur- 
riedly. “ Remember my father and my oath ! 
You must not kill him. It would be a sacri- 
lege. Nor would I ever unite myself to the 
murderer of him who saved my father.” 

“ But this same man has since attempted, 
through treachery, to assassinate me.” 

“ He will say that he was jealous, and that I 
gave him cause.” 

“ So there is no hope ? ” 

“ None,” replied Brunhilde, deathly calm. 

“ And we must part — ” 


The Last Act of Norma. 241 

“ Yes, Serafin, within one hour we must be 
dead to each other.” 

“Then within one hour,” continued Serafin 
hoarsely, “ I must depart from here, saying to 
my heart : ‘ There is no hope ! ’ — saying to 
my love : ‘ There is no hope ! ’ — There is a 
never, an implacable between heaven and 

me.” 

Serafin was still for a few seconds. 

Brunhilde was sobbing. 

“ And then to have to live ! ” continued Ser- 
V afin. “ To live with an inextinguishable sor- 
row, a desire impossible to realize. To re- 
member this hour, that night, those harmonies ; 
to remember that I have seen you at my side ; 
that our hands have touched ; that we have 
looked into each other’s eyes ; that we have 
trembled with love like two flowers on the 
same stem ; that everything unites us, passion, 
art, thought ; and that it has been necessary 
to turn those glances, unloose those hands, 
uproot those flowers, break that perfect sym- 
pathy. To be obliged to remember that an 
hour struck when the world fell between us, 


242 


Brunhildey or 


putting the barrier of the impossible between 
the dream and the reality, between your future 
and mine, between your happiness and mine ! 
And then to- have to live! To live! Ah! 
it cannot be ! ” 

Serafin wrung his hands in anguish. 

“Hear me!’' pleaded Brunhilde, in whose 
eyes there shone a heavenly light of divine 
hope. “ I want you to live ; to be happy ; I 
want to be happy myself. Listen to how this 
can be. I will not tell you to forget me — No ! 
that is impossible ! Nor will I tell you to 
remember me with the despair you have shown. 
I want something else — you will soon under- 
stand me — It is necessary that we should part, 
but let it not be in spirit ; I want each to live 
for the other ; that our thoughts should seek 
each other, though the world divide us ; that 
your heart should know that at no matter what 
hour, there is another beating in unison with 
it ; that by day, by night, to-day, to-morrow, 
though it be twenty years, you will say in your 
country or from the end of the universe : 
* Brunhilde, I love thee ! ’ and that you will 


The Last Act of *Norma. 243 

hear the breeze which fans your temples, whis- 
per : ‘I love thee, Serafin!’ I want you to 
believe that this breeze is my voice, as it will 
be without doubt, because always and ever I 
shall be blessing you. That when you kiss 
a flower you will murmur, ‘ Brunhilde,' and 
that you will know, that at that same in- 
stant, I am saying to a bird flying south, ‘ Ser- 
afin.’ When you hear that last act of Norma, 
I want you to see me at your side, feeling 
sure that my soul, thought, memory are not 
elsewhere. Finally, after many years have 
passed and you imagine that I am dead, I 
want you to die, talking to me, seeing me, lov- 
ing me as much as I shall love you, dead or 
alive. With my last breath, from the tomb or 
from heaven, I shall bless you, repeating ever 
an immortal I love you. You see, Serafin, 
that I am offering you an indissoluble union, 
which reaches far beyond life, which triumphs 
over absence, distance, the ravages of time and 
over death. To live thus is heavenly bliss, 
eternal youth, perpetual life. 

“ God gave us an immortal soul for some- 


244 


Bru7ihilde^ or 


thing, Serafin. My soul is not and can never 
be part of that of Rurico de Cdlix. My soul 
is yours. So let us love with our souls. 

“ I swore to God to give my hand to my 
father’s savior, and I will keep my oath, 
although I hate him. But my heart, my spirit, 
my will, belong to you. Now let us go to the 
piano that we may say farewell in the divine 
language of the soul.” 

Serafin had followed the Daughter of 
Heaven in her loving inspiration, carried away 
as though listening to the voice of an angel. 
When she ceased speaking, he fell upon his 
knees before her, fainting with love and over- 
come by the beauty of her soul. 

Brunhilde bent forward, and kissing him 
gently on the brow led him to the piano. 

As he ran his fingers over the keys, passion 
dilated her eyes and the sublime song of Bellini 
broke forth from her lips. 

Together they played and sang the pathetic 
melodies of Norma as they never were heard 
before. 

With his head turned towards her, Serafin 


The Last Act of Norma. 


245 

expressed in his glances the thoughts of love' 
and death in that supreme farewell. 

Resting her hand upon his shoulder, Brun- 
hilde leaned over him, inundating him 
with light, love, poetry; enveloping him in 
her voice, her gestures, her breath, her sweet 
warmth, the perfume she exhaled, and sang 
those feeling phrases : 

“ So terra ancora 
Saro con te,” 

as though improvising them, as though she 
herself were Norma. 

Yesterday, to-day, to-morrow; Seville, Ham- 
merfest. Silly ; love, farewell, hope and happi- 
ness ; all, palpitated in those songs. 

The harmony ceased, yet still resounded in 
their ears. 

They turned and gazed at each other with 
hands clasped and, when daylight entered the 
apartment, they were still gazing, without 
thought, without speech, far from the world, 
beyond this palpable reality which oppresses 


246 


Brunhilde, or 


us, this body which is the slave of life and 
which binds us to the earth. 

They were far, very far from the region of 
time, far from the spirit’s earthly prison, and 
far from the things which transpire in this 
world. 

A mutual kiss, a long kiss, neither premedi- 
tated nor asked for, but spontaneous, instinct- 
ive, burning, ended that mysterious colloquy 
of souls. 

They then parted suddenly, he, to leave the 
room, intoxicated, giddy and tottering, to fall 
into the arms of the man who had brought 
him. 

She, to languish like a dying flower, and to 
fall to the floor, white and insensible. 


The Last Act of Norma. 


247 


CHAPTER 11. 

I AM SORRY, DEAR READER, BUT IT HAPPENED 
AS I AM ABOUT TO RELATE IT. 



HEN Serafi'n came to his senses, he was 
in bed, in a strange room, with no 
recollection of what had passed, and 
with no more strength to move than have 
inert bones in a loose, yellow skin. 

Brunhilde’s little negro was at the head of 
the bed. 

“Where am I?” asked Serafin, not remem- 
bering that on a former occasion the little 
African had feigned ignorance of the poetical 
languages. 

“In Hammerfest, at the White Bear Inn,” 
answered Aben, in perfect French. 

Serafin looked up at him, and said, smilingly: 

“ Ah, ha ! So it seems that we understand 
each other.” 


248 Brunhilde^ or 

The Nubian grinned, showing his whole row 
of teeth. 

“ Who brought me here ? ” continued Serafin. 

i( j ’♦ 

When ? ” 

“ A month ago to-day.” 

“ A month ! ” 

‘‘Yes, a whole month. You nearly died.” 

“ What was the matter with me ? ” 

“ Brain fever.” 

“ And Brunhilde ? ” 

“ The Jarlesa left for Silly three weeks ago.” 

“ What day of the rrtonth is this? ” 

“ The third of July.” 

“ Then she is not married yet ! ” exclaimed 
Serafin, endeavoring unsuccessfully to sit up. 

“ She is not to be married until the seventh 
of August,” answered Aben. 

“ And Rurico ? ” 

“ Is at Silly, also, with Count Gustavo. 
They both think that you committed suicide 
a month ago.” 

“They are not far wrong,” thought Serafin. 
“ And my luggage ? ” he asked, after a moment. 


The Last Act of Norma, 249 

“There it is,” answered Aben, pointing to 
the other end of the room. 

“ Forever! ” exclaimed Serafin, covering his 
face with his hands. 

The little darky became serious. 

“ When shall I be able to get up ? ” asked 
the musician, after a moment’s pause. 

“ Within ten days, the doctor says.” 

And the Jarlesa? What message did she 
give you for me ? ” 

“ That you should take good care of your- 
self and return to your own country when 
strong enough.” 

“ Forever! ” again exclaimed Serafin. 

The little African smiled. 

“ She also gave me this for you,” he added, 
handing the invalid a letter. 

Serafin broke the seal eagerly, trembling 
with love and emotion. 

All it said was this : 

To live is to love : 

Let us live, Serafin. 

Good-bye, 

Forever. 


Brunhilde. 


250 


Brunhilde^ or 


The poor fellow kissed the paper again and 
again, and then lost consciousness. 

After eight days he was able to leave his 
bed. 

‘‘ Go to the port, Aben,” he said, “ and get 
me passage for any point in the South.” 

“ There are no ships in,” he answered. 

“ No ships ! ” 

“No, sir; but in fifteen days they expect a 
sloop from Spitzbergen, which goes to Cadiz. 
They\say she will stay a week in Hammerfest.” 

“Then I will sail on that sloop,” said Sera- 
fin. 

“ All right ! Leave it all to me, sir,” said 
the darky. 

Eight days later, Serafin went out for the 
first time. 

The sun had not set for two or three weeks, 
but revolved in the zenith in a spiral course. 

The weather was warm. 

Never did a man pass such slow, wearisome, 
hopeless days as Serafin in Hammerfest. 

Another week passed and the expected 
sloop, MatildCy dropped anchor in the port. 


The Last Act of Norma. 251 

Aben gave Serafin a- ticket for the third of 
August. 

The last week finally passed and the day of 
departure arrived. 

Serafin wrote the following letter, which he 
gave to Aben, after embracing him warmly: 

Good-bye, my darling ! 

I write you on the third of August — 

Four days from now I shall be on the seas, sailing toward 
my country. 

For what ? My God ! To die, or to live, dying I 

Four days from now you will be led to the altar. 

We are most unhappy. 

Good-bye, Daughter of Heaven 1 Good-bye, Norma ! My 
Brunhilde, good-bye I 

SERAPfN. 

After this farewell, which cost the musician 
his heart’s last tears, he became tranquil, stupid 
and indifferent. 

Two hours afterwards he boarded the sloop 
Matilde, which was preparing to set sail for 
Spain. 

As she swung off, he saw the little darky 
waving his Turkish cap from the wharf; and 


252 


Brunhilde, or 


as that coast receded, the thought that he was 
leaving all his illusions, passions, hopes behind, 
made him tremble like a leaf. 

When that last mark was lost on the horizon 
he felt as though a thousand leagues separated 
him from Brunhilde. 

“ I am dead at twenty-four,” he thought, with 
a calmness of which no one would have 
believed him capable. 

He looked about mechanically, seeing all and 
appreciating nothing. 

Then he saw nothing but waves — waves to 
the east, to the west, to the north and to 
the south of him. 


The Last Act of Norma. 


1 / 

253 


CHAPTER III. 

HAPPINESS IS SEEN THROUGH THE BOTTOM 
OF A GLASS. 

ERAFIN went below to the forward 
cabin and dropping into a chair rested 
his elbows on the saloon table. 

He remained there a long time, immovable 
and silent, like a body without life. 

At the end of two hours he raised his head, 
and ordered a punch, a long drink with plenty 
of rum. 

They brought him an enormous one. 

“ This will make me sleep,” said he to him- 
self as he filled a glass to the brim. 

He drained it slowly, his head thrown back, 
his eyes fixed on the fiery liquor ; but as he 
drank the last drop, he saw through the bot- 
tom the face of a man who was entering the 
cabin, 




254 


Brunhilde^ or 


The glass dropped to the floor. 

He gave a cry, and jumped to his feet, not 
daring to believe the evidence of his own eyes. 

“ Ten thousand devils ! ” exclaimed the 
apparition, throwing himself into Serafin’s 
arms. 

It was Albert. 

The musician rubbed his eyes, felt him with 
his hands and, like Thomas, doubted still. 

“ Albert ! ” he exclaimed, finally, “Albert ! 
My dear, dear Albert ! ” and he stood an 
instant almost overpowered between joy, sur- 
prise and happiness. 

Then overcome with emotion he fell upon 
the bench behind him. 

“ Well ! I left you drinking, and I find you 
still at it. Bravo ! ” exclaimed Albert, embrac- 
ing Serafin again. 

“ But, devil take it ! What are you doing 
here? You, in Lapland! You, who laughed 
so at my journey, and were going to Italy.” 

“ Italy ! ” murmured Serafin, to whose eyes 
grateful tears were returning. 

“ I know that there was a mistake about our 


The Last Act of Norma. 255 

tickets,” continued Albert, “ because I found 
myself bound for Italy, as you have come to 
Lapland. How do you like my North? But 
I find you pale, and you are weeping. What 
is the matter, my dear friend ? ” 

Serafin was unable to reply, but he was 
thanking God for that meeting ; Albert re- 
minded him of so much that had passed. 

“ What a night that was, Serafin ! ” continued 
the indefatigable cosmopolitan, talking, as 
usual, of a thousand things at the same time. 
“ We reached every stage of drunkenness. I 
did not discover the mistake until the follow- 
ing day. I got off at Gibraltar, three days 
afterward. But do not imagine that I went to 
Seville — the devil ! I love Matilde too much 
to trust myself to see her. Tell me ! Have 
you heard anything from her ? ” 

Serafin sighed as he heard his sister’s name. 
Albert continued. 

“Well, sir! Three days later, being with- 
out a ship for my polar expedition, I bought 
this sloop, manned her, and christened her 
Matilde"' 


256 


Brunhilde, or 


Albert paused again, looking at Serafin. 

“Do you love her so deeply?” said the 
artist. 

“ More than life,” answered Albert vehe- 
mently. “Every day more. It is my only 
grief ! ” 

Soon mastering himself, however, he con- 
tinued : 

“ I baptized the sloop in your sister’s name, 
and called myself captain. Therefore, please 
understand that you are under my orders.” 

Serafin smiled in spite of himself. 

“ Finally,” continued Albert, “ after a 
month’s navigation, I reached this cursed 
Hammerfest, where I remained two days. 
Then I shaped my course to the Pole, and I 
have made my coveted visit to Spitzbergen. 
My ! what magnificent things^ what wonders I 
have seen in that region ! But, man ! what’s 
up with you? You are sad to the very mar- 
row of your bones ! Tristis est anirna tua 
usque ad mortem ! as I would have said in my 
theological days.” 

“ Ah, Albert ! ” finally sighed Serafin, when 


The Last Act of Norma. 257 

his friend’s loquacity had given him a desire to 
talk. 

“ What in the devil is the matter with you ? 
Tell me. You only drink on great provoca- 
tion. What extraordinary thing has happened 
to you ? ” 

I will tell you all gradually,” answered 
Serafin. “Just now I do not feel very strong. 
But do you know that the Daughter of Heaven 
is shortly — ” 

Albert interrupted his friend with a loud 
laugh. 

“A hundred thousand devils!” he ex- 
claimed. “ So that love is the cause of your 
troubles? You have not forgotten that girl? 
Well, I pity you, old fellow,” he added more 
quietly. “ There isn’t a sadder thing on earth 
than a hopeless love. Neither can I forget ! ” 

“Ah!” said Serafin, “you do not know 
all.” 

“Well! what is it? Has she written you? 
The devil, but that woman interests me. To 
lose her at the moment of loving her! To 
lose her! Then to meet her in Cadiz — yes, 


2^8 Brunhildcy of 

that’s it! What drunkards we were! You 
saw her when she waved her handkerchief, 
and then — nothing! She disappeared — dis- 
appeared forever.” 

“ Oh, God ! ” groaned Serafin. 

“ What, have you met her again? Where? 
How ? Has she anything to do with your 
trip to the north ? ” 

“ I have seen her ; talked to her ; traveled a 
whole month with her ; she has sung to my 
accompaniments ; I know her name and his- 
tory.” 

“ Devils and demons! And you tell me all 
this with that air of sadness ! Oh ! you are 
fooling.” 

“ I am telling you the truth,” responded 
Serafin. “ For her sake, I came to this region ; 
on her account you see me on your sloop. 
For her alone, I live.” 

“ I will console you,” replied the captain of 
the Matilde, swallowing a bumper. “ But now 
I remember the whole case. Have you met 
the fellow of the white mantle? Certainly he 
has not forgotten our duel ; and he will find 


259 


The Last Act of Norma. 

me at the rendezvous. Have you tripped over 
that blonde bear ? ” 

“ Yes, and talked with him many times.’' 

“Oh! I am dreaming. Tell me! And the 
bald, old dwarf ? ” 

“ I also know who he is.’’ 

“ And yet you do not call yourself Pol- 
onius ? ” 

“ You see that I am very unhappy. It is a 
long story to tell, but to-morrow you shall 
know all.” 

“Well! I believe that we have tumbled 
over each other in good time. Would-be 
suicides must be in just about the state of 
mind that you are in to-day.” 

“And I cannot even kill myself,” replied 
Serafin, lugubriously. 

“ I am very glad to hear it ; but tell me 
why you cannot ? ” 

“ Because I have sworn not to do so.” 

“ To whom ? ” 

“ To the Daughter of Heaven.” 

“Then I do not understand matters. Is she 
a coquette or a woman ? ” 


26 o 


Brunhilde^ or. 


“ She is an angel.” 

“ And wishes you evil ? ” 

“ She adores me.” 

“ Every moment I understand less. Is she 
married ? ” 

“ No.” 

Oh ! Go to the devil — in fact let us drop 
the subject. You can tell it to me after a 
while— or never. One forgets what has no 
remedy. To forget — one drinks. Here, boy, 
bring us some more punch. I will drink with 
you. Then you can come to my cabin, and in 
future we will live there together. I will cure 
you of this love, or I will sigh with you. Ah ! 
I also have reason to sigh. In a month we shall 
arrive at Cadiz, and then I do not know what 
I will do. Sing mass, or go to Japan, perhaps. 
I have no home, no family, no — Why am I 
such a fool ? But I am not a fool in loving 
your sister. Let us talk of something else. 
Ah ! magnificent punch ! Brace up, Serafin ! 
How much I wanted to talk, and above all 
with you. Imagine my surprise when I found 
your name among the list of passengers. 


The Last Act of Norma. 261 

Have another glass! It seems a dream, my 
seeing you. Well ! since you will not talk, 
I will. I will tell you something of my voy- 
ages. It will certainly interest you. I remem- 
ber a certain interview that I had with a being 
of the other world — and that reminds me of 
something else — stupid of me not to have 
told you before. Do you know with whom 
you are talking? ” 

“ With whom ? ” said Serafin, mechanically. 

“ With the captain of the MatildeT 

“You told me that before.” 

“Wait! I am not through yet. I am not 
only captain, but admiral. Nor is that all — I 
am a king.” 

“A king! ” said Serafin, smiling. 

“ Yes king ! — king with all its letters.” 

“ Of what ? ” 

“Of Spitzbergen. Of Northeast Island. A 
king without subjects ! King of a deserted 
island — but absolute king because I have no 
advisers. And what peace reigns in my 
dominions ! ” 

“ But who appointed you king?” 


/ 


262 Brunhilde, or 

I, myself — I ! who before placing the 
crown on my head, said to myself, parodying 
the great Sextus V., Ego sum Papa. Yes, 
my boy, in this I agree with my cousin Henry 
VIII., of England. I am king and pope at 
once. First I made myself pope, and then, 
king. But to return to my story, to my inter- 
view with the dead. Here ! Take another 
glass first.” 


N 


The Last Act of Nonna. 


263 


CHAPTER IV. 

HOW A CORPSE EMBALMED ITSELF. 

ORTHEAST ISLAND,” 'continued 
Albert, “ is the most northern of the 
Spitzbergen archipelago, and unin- 
habited like the others. On the one which gives 
its name to the group, I believe there is a 
Russian colony, which inhabits it during the 
spring months. But I was not hunting Rus- 
sians, Serafin ; I was hunting for the majestic 
solitude of an ice-bound nature. 

“ Thus it was that I disembarked on that 
island, larger by far than many European king- 
doms, alone, with my gun on my shoulder, and 
not without a feeling of pride at the thought 
that I was the only inhabitant of that vast ter- 
ritory — its king, in fact, as Adam was of all 
the earth. 

“ Although it was the middle of spring, it 




264 


Brunhilde^ or 


was colder than the devil. Wild strawberries 
were growing upon a ground always covered 
with snow. The white poppies and everlasting 
flowers flourished in the shade of old cedar 
trees, rent and broken by the storms of many 
winters. On the mountain sides, almost crushed 
by huge blocks of ice, grew the lichen or white 
moss, which comprised my vegetable kingdom. 

“ The burgomaster, that polar vulture, and 
other birds were singing and flying on the 
hill-tops ; but nowhere did I see the bird for 
which I was hunting — and about which I have 
read so many lies. 

“ But what are you doing, Serafin ? You 
are going to sleep. Confound it ! pay atten- 
tion, the climax is approaching. I was 
seeking the apura-nieves, or snow-bird. I had 
walked about half a league inland, when the 
sun broke through the stiff, cold clouds. 

“ Suddenly, I saw on the summit of an icy 
peak a kind of dove, whose yellow plumage 
shone so brilliantly in the sun that he seemed 
to be of gold, or better still, on fire. 

“ It was my long sought specimen. 


The Last Act of Norma. 265 

“ I raised my gun at once, but he saw me 
and flew to rest upon the side of a fissure 
formed by two huge pieces of ice. I advanced 
cautiously towards him ; but not before he had 
had time to take precautionary measures him- 
self by entering the cleft. 

“ Desperate over this failure, I determined 
not to return to the ship without my bird, so 
I clambered up the mountain, and slid into the 
crack myself. I then saw with astonishment 
that that hall of eternal ice led to an extensive 
cavern or grotto, at the end of which I could 
see daylight. 

“ The apura-nieves was perched in the exit 
of the crystal gallery, and shone in the sun 
like a red-hot coal. Darkness enveloped me, 
and as the natural hall in which I found my- 
self was perfectly straight, I aimed and fired. 

“ The bird fell on the other side of the cave. 

When I ran to secure it, I felt the whole 
grotto tremble. The roof was cracking in all 
directions with a horrible noise, and pieces of 
rock were falling all about me. The gallery 
was not of rock, but of pure ice. I thought 


266 


BrunhiVde^ or 


my end had come. The exit and entrance were 
both obstructed, depriving me of any escape or 
light. I was there in the darkness awaiting 
what I supposed to be an earthquake. 

“ Suddenly the roof cracked and commenced 
to fall about me, allowing the light to enter in 
streams. 

“ I jumped at one bound into the first open- 
ing I saw, and there awaited more tranquilly 
the end of the convulsion, which, I began to 
realize, was caused by my imprudence. 

“ But as though the cataclysm had had no 
other purpose than to frighten me, I had 
hardly placed myself in a safe position when 
the whole racket ceased. 

I then looked about me for a safe exit and 
also with an idea of finding my bird. 

“ But upon turning my head my eyes met 
another pair of eyes. The devil ! Now trem- 
ble, Serafin ! Those eyes were human eyes 
and as life-like and black as mine, and yet I 
was apparently alone in that grotto. 

“ Those eyes were in the centre of a block 
of ice. At first I thought it was my own im- 


The Last Act of Norma. 267 

age reflected in the ice before me. But then I 
looked again and saw that the eyes belonged 
to a face, and that the face was not mine, that 
the face belonged to a body dressed in white, 
stretched out in the block of ice. 

“ It was a man enclosed in crystal — a frozen 
body. The devil ! I swear to you — no — it 
was not XhQ devil ! that I said — but God ! my 
God ! many and repeated times. 

“ What astonished me most was that the 
body’s eyes were open and shining as if the 
vital spark lighted the pupil. He was a hand- 
some fellow, dressed in a white Scandinavian 
tunic which was spotted in many places with 
blood. His hand grasped an object which I 
saw was a silver box. Long, black hair, stiff 
from death and the polar cold, surrounded his 
white features, stamped with the last agony. 

“He looked like an image of the Crucified 
One resting in his sainted sepulchre. 

“ Do not be astonished at this, Serafin — I had 
known that there was no embalming on earth 
more perfect than congelation, for I had seen 
that in all these countries they used ice instead 


268 Brunhilde^ or 

of salt to preserve meat fresh during entire 
years. 

“ My first feelings were of fright, terror. 

“ I was soon however filled with curiosity. 
Who had put that man there ? Who had 
killed him ? What was the meaning of that 
box which he held in his hand 1 

“ Then I began to break the ice about him 
with the butt of my rifle, and after an hour’s 
work I succeeded in snatching the box from 
his firm grasp. 

“ I opened it with considerable trouble and 
found a bundle of papers, endorsed as follows : 

Memoirs of Jarl Rurico de Cdlix, 

“‘Written in the hour of death, and ad- 
dressed to his Brothers of Malenger. 

“ ‘ Spitzbergen, i8 — ” 


The Last Act of Norma, 


269 


CHAPTER V. 


HOPE REVIVED. 


ERAFIN had heard all this without 
listening. 

He was thinking of his own misfor- 
tunes, and was not in a mood to pay much 
attention to anything beyond them. But at 
the mention of the name Rurico de Cdlix^ he 
bounded forward from his chair as though im- 
pelled by a steel spring. 

“What name did you say?’’ he exclaimed, 
with intense excitement. 

Albert looked at him in astonishment. 

Then Serafin, wishing to recall what his 
friend had been telling him, commenced to 
rub his forehead, repeating aloud : — 

“ Spitzbergen ! A body ! Black eyes ! 
Blood ! Rurico de Cdlix ! ” 



2/0 Brunhilde^ or 

These were the only ideas he could collect 
in his confusion. 

For Heaven’s sake, be calm, Serafin ! ” 
exclaimed Albert. 

“What madness!” exclaimed Serafin, drop- 
ping back in his chair. “ Rurico de Cdlix 
lives! In four days he will be married to the 
Daughter of Heaven ! ” 

Albert, thanks to his natural cleverness, com- 
prehended at once all that Serafin had not 
told him. 

Rurico de Cdlix died five years ago on 
Northeast Island!” he said in a convincing 
tone which fairly electrified the lover of Brun- 
hilde. 

“ Albert ! Albert ! ” cried Serafin in des- 
peration, “why do you deceive me? Do 
you not see that your inventions are making a 
madman of me ? ” 

In truth, he believed that his friend had 
manufactured that tale to recall him to the 
world of hope. Albert did not answer a single 
word, but with imposing seriousness rose and 
left the saloon hurriedly, signing to Serafin to 
wait. 


The Last Act of Norma. 271 

Two minutes afterward he returned with 
some papers in his hand. 

“ Listen, Serafin, and do not interrupt me ! 
he exclaimed. 

“ These are the memoirs of Rurico de 
Calix/’ 

Serafin became attentive at once, though 
not yet daring to believe that what was taking 
place could be true. 


2/2 


Brunhilde^ or 


CHAPTER VI. 

MEMOIRS OF RURICO DE cAlIX. 

ROTHERS: 

“You confided a sacred mission to 
me which I have not completed, and 
I must therefore justify myself in your eyes. 

“ I am about to die, but, as Heaven has 
granted me a quiet ending, I shall be able to 
write these memoirs briefly, as your emis- 
sary who reaches this island next year will 
find. 

“ This is the history of my death. 

******* 

“ Brothers: I loved the Jarlesa of Silly. 

“ Another man loved her also. This man 
was the Boy-Pirate, Oscar of the Mask. 

“ One day, I received a proof of love from 
the Jarlesa — a salutation. 



The Last Act of Norma. 273 

“ The next day my rival fired a shot which 
killed the pilot of my sloop — The Needle. 
******* 

“ It was at Malenger that you confided tome 
the important papers that I was to bring to 
this island, to our subterranean palace. 

“ When I was returning to my sloop, after 
leaving you, I found the Jarl of Silly, our 
venerable brother, in the power of Oscar of the 
Mask, who was about to kill him. 

“ I saved the old man, and wounded the other, 
who rolled to the bottom of a deep abyss. 

‘‘The Jarl of Silly then swore to me that his 
daughter should be my wife. 

“ We parted by the shore, and I started on 
my voyage. After eight days’ sailing we noticed 
that a whaler was following us in the distance. 

“ On the succeeding day she was hidden from 
us by a heavy mist. 

“ I put on all sail because I feared that spy- 
ing bark. 

******* 

“ A week later the sun broke through the 
haze. 


274 


Brunhilde, or 


The whaler was but a league’s distance 
away. 

“ It was the Boy-Pirate, the cruising vessel 
of Oscar of the Mask, the brig which bore his 
name. 

******* 

“ Our efforts were in vain for the whaler was 
the faster ship. 

“ As soon as Spitzbergen appeared in the 
distance, he gave us chase. 

“Rapid firing of cannon shots commenced. 

“ Oscar of the Mask came in his own boat and 
ordered the attack. He had not perished as 
I thought. 

“ His right arm was bandaged and in a sling, 
but he grasped his axe in his left hand. 

“ Our sailors fought like tigers, but all to no 
purpose. 

“ Oscar threw off his mask at the supreme 
moment, and his followers, seeing the bandit’s 
face without doubt for the first time, yelled 
with enthusiasm, and fought us hand to hand. 

“ The Boy-Pirate did not remove his furious 
eyes from me. So that you may recognize 


The Last Act of Norma, 275 

him and avenge us, I will tell you that he is a 
handsome youth of eighteen or twenty years, a 
young tiger of lofty mien, with very short 
blonde hair, clear, blue eyes and a disdainful 
smile. 

“ The piratical insignia which gives him 
supremacy among his people is a red breast 
plate crossed by a yellow band. 

“ When the bandits, who follow him, see this 
sinister ensign, they yell like fiends eager for 
slaughter. 

“ He conquered us and boarded us. 

“ All my crew were killed. 

“ The Needle was rapidly making water. 

I soon noticed that she was^ about to sink 
into the vast tomb which surrounded us. 

“Then I, who had hidden, plunged into the 
sea with the box containing your papers, to 
save myself by swimming. 

******* 

“ I reached this island. 

“ But not even here was I free from death. 

“ The Needle sank ; I had no ship with 
which to return home. 


2/6 


Brunhildey or 


I knew that cold and hunger would do the 
rest. 

“ Destiny, however, had reserved for me a 
more horrible fate. 

“ Listen. 

“ The pirates spied me as I reached the 
shore. Oscar jumped into a boat, followed by 
four or five other bandits, and rowed towards 
me. 

“ Giving myself up as lost, I threw your box 
of papers into the sea, and pushed forward into 
the island. 

“ But at the end of an hour I was taken 
prisoner. 

“ ‘ Do not kill him ! ’ shrieked the Boy- 
Pirate from a distance. 

He quickly reached the spot where I was, 
and ordered me to be ironed. 

‘ Leave us alone,’ he then said to my cap- 

tors. 

“ The bandits took themselves off. 

“ ‘ Listen to what I have to say, ’ said 
Oscar with his usual calmness. 

‘ Brunhilde of Silly hates me ; you, she 


The Last Act of Norma. 277 

loves. Your harp enchants her; the echoes of 
my flute enrage her. There is not room for 
both of us on this earth. It is four weeks 
since the Jarl of Silly swore to you that his 
daughter should be your wife. 

“ ‘ A few moments before, your shot had 
broken my arm. 

“ ‘ That day, in spite of my wound, I climbed 
up the cliff with the intention of throwing my 
men upon you, when I heard your tender con- 
versation with the father of the woman I loved. 

“ ‘ I stopped and listened. 

“ ‘ You said you were going to Spitzbergen. 
I resolved to follow. 

“ ‘ I conceived a magnificent plan. 

“ ‘ Pay attention to me, and rend yourself in 
anger. 

“‘I intend to kill you, and not you alone, 
but also Brunhilde’s father. 

“ ‘Wait, I have not finished. 

“ ‘ Then I will present myself to her as 
Rurico de Cdlix, and demand fulfilment of the 
oath given you by her father. She does not 
know you, that is, she does not know that 


278 Brunhilde, or 

Rurico de Calix and the harpist are one and 
the same. 

Neither does she know that Oscar of the 
Mask and the flutist are one. 

‘‘ ‘ Her father, who alone could expose all, 
will be dead. 

“ ‘ My face is unknown to the whole world, 
consequently Brunhilde will be mine ! She 
will be my wife ! And in the mean time, the 
bears of this island will be satisfying their 
hunger on you — ’ 

“ He thereupon plunged his knife into my 
breast. 

******* 

“ When I recovered consciousness, the pirate 
bark was disappearing on the high seas. 

‘‘ I was alone on this island ! 

“ Alone, and exhausted from the loss of 
blood, I stuffed a handkerchief into the wound, 
and bound it up with my belt. 

God has permitted me to reach this spot, 
where my successor will pass next year, and 
has allowed me strength to save my honor by 
writing you these words. 


The Last Act of Norma. 279 

******* 

Brothers ! 

I have not fulfilled my important mission ; 
but the papers you confided to me did not fall 
into the hands of our enemies. 

“You all owe your lives to me! 

“ Avenge me! 

******* 

“ My strength is failing fast. 

So hear my will. 

“ Find my mother, my poor mother, the 
Jarlesa Alexandria de Cdlix, who lives on the 
Island of Loppen. 

“ Tell her that I died blessing her. 

“Advise the Jarl of Silly of his danger. 

“ Go to Brunhilde and tell her that she is 
absolved from the unredeemed pledge, as I, 
Rurico de Calix, am dead. 

“ Tell her that I die for her, worshipping her 
memory. 

“ Good-bye, my brothers ! 

“ Work for the independence of Norway. 

“ This is my last word — my last hope. 

“ Rurico de CAlix.” 


28 o 


Brunhilde, or 


CHAPTER VII. 

THE KING OF A DESERTED ISLAND HARANGUES 
HIS VASSALS. 



T would be impossible to describe the 
revolution which had taken place in 
Serafin’s feelings as he heard these 


memoirs. 

“Albert, you have saved me! You have 
saved her! You give me back my happiness, 
my love ! I owe all to you ! ” Saying this, 
he embraced the King of Spitzbergen, who 
understood only about half of what was passing. 

Then Serafin related all his adventures: his 
voyage, his narrow escapes, his conversations 
with the captain, Brunhilde’s history ; all that 
network which the memoirs of the true Rurico 
had succeeded in unravelling. 

“ Devils and demons ! ” exclaimed Albert, 
taking several turns around the saloon. “To 



The Last Act of Norma. 281 

Silly! To Silly, Serafin ! We must hurry to 
save Brunhilde I We have only four days, but 
that is time. Here is the man who could not 
fight until a year had passed ! I will show 
him pretty soon what I think of all the pirates 
in the world, be they blondes or otherwise. 
Hi, there. Boatswain ! Pilot ! Mate ! To the 
Castle of Silly! Heave away! Unfurl all 
sails! Not a reef in one of them ! Hoist ’em 
up ! Aloft my boys ! To Silly ! If we do 
not reach there before the seventh. I’ll hang 
you all to the yard arm ! And you. Mate, shall 
serve as my pennant until the end of time ! ” 

Albert had scarcely ended his harangue, 
when the Matilde put about, and fairly flew 
before the wind toward the coast. 

Serafin, kissed, embraced, took Albert com- 
pletely off his feet. 

“ I will reward you, my friend,” said he. “ I 
will reward you in a way you do not expect. 
Albert ! Albert ! You shall pay for these tears 
of happiness with others of your own, or I 
lose my name of Serafin, my life, my hope, 
my love, my Stradivarius ! ” 


282 


Brunhilde, or 


CHAPTER VIII. 


ALL AND NOTHING. 



T was the seventh of August ; the day 
of the wedding. The sun came out 
after a short night. From the side 
of the ship, Albert and Serafin watched it rise 
with great emotion. 

“How much farther? When shall we ar- 
rive ? ” asked the two young fellows of the 
sailors every moment. 

“ Within ten hours — within eight — within 
seven — within four — within two ” — they re- 
sponded at intervals, as they saw the sun move 
along on the horizon. 

“When shall we arrive?” repeated Albert, 
throwing pieces of money to the amazed 
sailors. 

“ Inside of an hour.” 

“ What time is it now?” 





The Last Act of Norma. 


283 


“Twelve o’clock.” 

“Twelve? Twelve o’clock? Put on more 
sail ! ” exclaimed Serafin. 

“Now we can see Silly,” cried a sailor. 
“ Look ! That black castle that appears above 
the snow ! ” 

“ Silly ! ” exclaimed Serafin. “ Brunhilde is 
there ! ” 

“ The seventh of August ! Half-past twelve 
o’clock ! ” cried the captain of the Matilde. 
“ If we do not reach land by one o’clock, I’ll 
sink the whole outfit. Prepare to drop anchor ! 
Let her go ! Hope ! Courage, Serafin ! We 
are here ! ” 

It was half-past one. 

Albert and Serafin jumped into the gig, 
which landed them in two minutes. 

“ We must run ! ” they said simultaneously. 
And they started for the castle which over- 
looked the village. 

Silly was gloomy and silent. 

Some servants, richly uniformed, allowed 
our friends to pass, believing them to be wed- 
ding guests. 


284 


Brunhilde^ or 


Is she married ? ” asked Serafin in Italian, 
French, Spanish, Latin. 

The servants shrugged their shoulders, not 
understanding. 

“ Is she married ? ” asked Albert, trying 
English, German, Greek, Arabic and Portu- 
guese. 

They understood him no better. 

What anxious moments ! 

Guided by a servant, they passed through 
empty saloons and galleries until they entered 
an ante-chamber, through the half-opened door 
of which they saw bright lights and heard the 
murmur of voices. 

Serafin shook like a leaf. 

“ You enter ! ” he said to his friend. 

“The devil ! I’m not afraid to go in! ” ex- 
claimed Albert. “ Follow me.” 

And removing his hat, he pushed the door 
open violently. 

Serafin followed. 

It was the chapel. 


The Last Act of Norma. 


285 


CHAPTER IX. 

ALL IN VAIN. 



TOP ! ” cried Albert, in a loud tone, 
on entering the sacred precincts. 
Brunhilde, Rurico de Calix, Count 
Gustavo, the priest, the notary and the wit- 
nesses, the only persons present, turned their 
heads in astonishment. 

Rurico saw Albert and recognized him as 
the man who had challenged him. 

Brunhilde did not know him, but she sur- 
mised that something extraordinary was about 
to happen. 

Then Serafin appeared. 

When she saw him whom she believed at 
sea, and thought that he was breaking all his 
oaths to her; when she gazed again upon him 
who was her life, soul and love, she felt anger, 
surprise, happiness, desperation. 



286 Brunhilde, or 

Serafin ! ” she exclaimed, falling into her 
uncle’s arms. 

“ Serafin ! ” repeated Rurico, whom for two 
months he had believed to be dead. 

“ Sir ! ” said Count Gustavo indignantly. 

But Serafin existed for Brunhilde alone. 

He gazed at her with anguish, with delirious 
love. 

Was she still free ? Was she married 
yet ? 

She was pale and sad. A shadow of what 
she had been. 

Those two months of suffering had left their 
traces upon her. 

She was dressed in white, she wore two 
crowns — the count’s and her wedding crown, 
and though invisible, the crown of the martyr 
was also there. 

Stop ! ” repeated Albert with such 
audacity that all held their breath. 

Brunhilde had recovered herself, and was 
gazing upon that scene, not knowing to what 
it would lead. 

Rurico, livid with anger, placed his hand 


The Last Act of Norma. 287 

upon his dagger, fearing much, and restraining 
himself with difficulty. 

Count Gustavo drew near to the two friends, 
and said severely : 

“ How dare you so disturb the peace of a 
family — the quiet of my house — the solemnity 
of this ceremony. Leave here with your dar- 
ing love ! Leave an obedient daughter to ful- 
fil her father’s oath.” 

Let us finish,” added Rurico, addressing 
the priest. “ These gentlemen can witness the 
ceremony and then we will ask their reason for 
coming.” 

Serafin was overjoyed at these words. v 

“ We have arrived in time,” he exclaimed. 

“ She is not married,” said Albert, taking the 
memoirs of Rurico de Calix from his breast. 

“ What does this mean ? ” cried Rurico, 
drawing his dagger on seeing those papers 
which seemed to augur danger to him. 

“You are in a temple,” i^uggested the priest. 

Rurico sheathed his dagger, muttering an 
excuse. 

“Attention, all,” said Serafin solemnly. 


288 


Brunhilde^ or 


This marriage cannot proceed. The daughter 
of the Jarl of Silly has sworn to give her hand 
to Rurico de' Calix, and she must not fail in 
her oath.” 

All looked at him in surprise, believing he 
had lost his reason. 

Rurico, seeing that trouble was imminent, 
looked toward the door. 

Albert quietly showed him a pistol. 

“ Explain yourself, sir,” said Count Gustavo. 
“ My ward swore to marry Rurico de Cdlix, 
and is disposed, as you have seen, to carry out 
her oath by marrying — ” 

“ Whom?” 

“ Rurico de Calix.” 

• “And where is he? He is not here.” 

“There he is,” replied Gustavo, pointing to 
the captain of the Leviathan. 

“That is not Rurico de Calix,” answered Ser- 
afin in a clear voice. 

If a lightning stroke had fallen in the middle 
of that chapel, it could not have caused such 
astonishment as did that revelation. 

Brunhilde, with dilated eyes, with hands 


The Last Act of Norma. 289 

raised in horror, drew back a step from the 
false Rurico and murmured slowly: 

“ I suspected it.” 

Rurico burst into a loud laugh. 

Count Gustavo approached Serafin. 

“ Take care what you say,” he exclaimed in 
a solemn voice. 

The bandit, covered by Albert’s pistol, did 
not dare to move. 

“ That man,” continued Serafin, “ is Oscar of 
the Mask, the Boy-Pirate, the assassin of 
Rurico de Calix, who died five years ago in 
Spitzbergen^ That man is the mountaineer 
who once w^punded a sailor in front of this 
castle ; the sa;me bandit who imprisoned Jarl 
Adolphus of Silly, and who tried to make him 
choose betweenx dishonor and his daughter. 
He is the traitorX who afterwards killed him ; 
the villanous impo'j^tor who wishes to pass for 
the man whom he assassinated, and secure his 
victim’s prize. Hypocrite! Liar! Pirate! 
Assassin ! Traitor! ” continued Serafin, address- 
ing the bandit. “Defend yourself if you 
dare.” 


290 Brunhilde^ or 

An instant’s silence reigned. 

Gustavo, the priests and the witnesses drew 
back from that man upon whom such terrible 
accusations were falling. 

They awaited his reply before showering 
upon him all their anger and vengeance. 

“And I was about to marry my father’s 
assassin ! ” murmured Brunhilde. 

Oscar then advanced, cold, serene, noncha- 
lant. 

“ Notary, in the name of the law I order 
you to arrest this scoundrel,” said he, pointing 
to Serafin. 

Serafin drew back a step. 

“Arrest him, I tell you ! ” he added, with^ 
such apparent honesty and innocence as to 
gain the respect of all and to cause them to 
doubt anew. “ Arrest this criminal who calum- 
niates me, this adventurer who profanes 
the temple where God is about to bestow 
upon me the hand of the woman I love ! This 
liar, who calls me impostor, because he loves 
my affianced wife; this miserable violinist, Avho 
aspires to connect himself by intrigue to the 


The Last Act of Norma. 291 

crown of Silly! Arrest him and force him to 
show the proofs of his accusations or let him 
suffer the punishment of calumniators 1 

“ Here are the proofs ! ” cried Albert, feeling 
that the tide of sympathy was changing. 
“ Here are the memoirs of .the true Rurico de 
Calix, whom that scoundrel impersonates.” 

“Those memoirs are lies!” exclaimed the 
pirate indignantly. “ I have never written my 
memoirs.” 

“ There is another proof ! ” said Serafi'n. 

“What?” exclaimed all. 

“ The body of Rurico de Calix ! ” 

“ His body ! You perhaps bring it as wit- 
ness?” Oscar said these words with frightful 
irony. 

He feared perhaps that this might be true. 

“ His body is in Spitzbergen. I have seen 
it ! The ice has preserved it, and the author- 
ities will recognize it ! ” exclaimed Albert, ar- 
rogantly. 

“That is very far away!” replied Rurico, 
sarcastically. “ The winter has already set in, 
in that region, and no one will be able to go 


292 


Brunhilde^ or 


there before next year. God ! But you are 
ingenious! You invent an artful fable which 
requires a year to disprove. During this year 
the Jarlesa would remain free and your friend 
might regain hope. What madness, gentle- 
men ! WlTat madness ! The persons who are 
listening to us are too wise to allow themselves 
to be carried away by the caprices of your 
vivid imaginations! I am the Jarl of Calix, 
no one can prove to the contrary, and this 
lady will be my wife within ten minutes. 
Scoffing at your accusation, the husband of 
Brunhilde will go to-morrow before the courts 
and either put himself in prison or avenge his 
honor.” 

The guests turned and looked at each other 
in astonishment at seeing the cloud over the 
young Jarl so soon dispelled. 

Brunhilde then came forward and in a clear, 
ringing voice, said, addressing herself to 
Rurico : 

‘ Sir, all that this gentleman has said is true. 
If you have no proofs, my heart does not re- 
quire them.” 


The Last Act of Norma. 293 

“ But ‘mine does ! ” replied the pirate, freez- 
ing with a frightful laugh the smile that was 
appearing on his rival’s lips. “ Mine needs 
them ! Do you, Madam, propose to have re- 
course to a stupid subterfuge in order to vio- 
late the most sacred of oaths? When I saved 
your father’s life, I swore to him that you 
should be my wife. When he was dying you 
swore it also. When he confided you to the 
care of the venerable gentlerhan at your side 
he repeated the same oath. When I presented 
myself at the castle four years ago, you reiter- 
ated it anew. Jarl of Silly! Jarl of Silly ! look 
down upon your daughter insulting him who 
saved you from death, and scorning your dy- 
ing words ! And you. Count Gustavo, see 
how the honor of your escutcheon is stained 
in your presence ; how religion is insulted ! ” 

“ Ah, Madam,” continued Rurico, majesti- 
cally, do not oblige me to reclaim the ring I 
gave you ! Do not oblige me to return the 
promise you gave me ! Consider what you 
are doing. Madam ! You would insult the 
memory of your father, you would throw mud 


294 Brunhilde^ or 

upon his sepulchre, and stain the reputation of 
your family ! ” 

The bystanders, with the exception of Ser- 
afin and Albert, bowed their heads as they 
listened to that menacing voice. Whether 
true or false, that which Rurico said appealed 
to the heart and to the mind. 

Count Gustavo, very much distressed and 
overpowered by that dignified and indignant 
attitude, approached Brunhilde and, taking 
her by both hands, said gently : 

“ My daughter — God wishes it ! Accept the 
sacrifice ! ” 

Brunhilde, pallid, dejected, full of supersti- 
tion and fear, fell upon her knees before the 
altar. 

Albert committed the imprudence of ad- 
vancing toward the false Rurico, pistol in hand. 

The priest saw him, and, convinced that the 
pirate was speaking the truth, he exclaimed 
with indignation : 

“ Leave this place ! Respect the temple ! ” 

Serafin bowed his head and started to leave 
the chapel. 


The Last Act of Norma. 295 

Oscar knelt beside the Daughter of Heaven. 

Gustavo renewed the priest’s request that 
Albert and Serafin should leave. 

The priest commenced the ceremony. 

The two friends looked at each other in the 
greatest desperation. 

“ Let us go ! ” said Serafin. 

“ Kill yourself,” replied Albert, handing him 
a pistol. 

At that moment quick steps and cries were 
heard in the ante-chamber. 

“Let me in! Let me in!” cried a woman 
in a hoarse, broken voice. “ Let me in, as- 
sassins ! ” 


296 


Brunhilde^ of 


CHAPTER X. 


IN WHICH TWO PERSONS DIE. 



HE ceremony was again interrupted at 
the sound of that desperate cry. 

The door opened and a servant en- 


tered. 

“Madam,” he said, “an aged mad-woman, 
who calls herself the Jarlesa Alexandria de 
Cdlix, wishes to enter.” 

All present uttered a cry on hearing these 
words. 

Rurico sprang up, his features distorted and 
his hands clasping his head. 

Brunhilde turned towards her lover, and said 
to him rapturously : 

“ Heaven has sent us the best witness ! ” 

Albert and Serafin beamed with delight. 

Gustavo and the priest rushed out precipi- 
tately. 


The Last Act of Norma. 297 

“ Now we shall know the truth,” said the 
witnesses. 

“ Let me in ! ” repeated the mad-woman, 
entering the chapel between the two old 
men. 

She was a woman of seventy years, tall, 
strong, majestic and dressed in white ; pale, 
and with a skin like parchment. Her black 
eyes flashed fire. Her gray hair stood up on 
her forehead, giving her an air of great power 
and of savage majesty. 

When she entered the chapel she was vio- 
lent and in a frenzied rage. She halted in the 
middle of the assemblage, her half-opened 
mouth covered with froth, and looked at them 
all intently, one by one, like an imbecile, an 
idiot. Afterward she turned her gaze upon 
herself, and striking her body with both hands 
said with a disconsolate smile : — 

My servants have fooled me ! ” 

Then the rigidity of her muscles relaxed ; 
she knelt ; her arms dropped to her side, and 
her head fell forward. A deep sigh swelled 
her shrunken breast, two rivers of tears ran 


298 Brunhilde^ or 

down her cheeks as if to quench the thirst of 
her feverish lips. 

“ It was a lie!” she murmured, with all the 
despondency of true sentiment. “ Woe is me! 
They have fooled me ! Listen, listen to a 
mother’s misery! Good-bye, my son. You 
will return soon? You will freeze there! You 
are the one flower of this poor widow ! I love 
you so much, my Rurico! Therefore do not 
tarry. One year, two years, three years, 
four years! five years ! Is he dead? Does he 
live ? Ah ! how cold it is ! But it is colder 
yet in Spitzbergen ! There I have a frozen 
son. Oh ! Let me go, and I will warm him 
with my kisses! I will bring him back to life! 
I will tear out this warm, live heart and put it 
in his cold, dead breast ! — Ah ! — already — 
Then he is not frozen? Well if he did not 
freeze, why does he not come ? — What ! 
You say he has come? Who? Rurico de 
Calix to marry the daughter of Silly? 
My Rurico — my Rurico lives ! Vassals ! 
Prepare the boat ! What does the echo 
say? Tell the torrent to keep still! Vas- 


The Last Act of Norma. 299 

sals, we go to Silly to search for my son ! 
Ingrate! Have you forgotten your mother? 
Where are you, beloved of my soul ? Do you 
love me less than that other woman ? — ah ! 
Poor mothers ! ” 

She stopped for a moment. 

She suddenly ceased crying, and rose up 
furiously, saying 

“ But where is he ? I wish to see him ! Let 
me in.” 

Then calming herself, she said naturally 
and simply — 

“Good-day, ladies and gentlemen. Have 
you seen my son ? ” 

It would be useless to attempt to describe 
the effect that mother produced on each one 
who listened. 

Brunhilde was weeping. 

Oscar, agitated and unnerved, was trying 
to hide behind some curtains. 

Gustavo, the priest, and the others present 
were looking from the mad-woman to the 
pirate, and murmuring: — 

“ He is not her son ! ” 


300 


Brunhilde^ or 


Thei^ Albert, who had kept his eyes on the 
pirate, approached the curtains pistol in hand 
and drew them aside, saying to the sad 
mother : — 

Madam, here is Rurico de Calix! ” 

She gave a wild shriek and sprang like a 
panther toward the pirate. She grasped him 
by both arms, looked intently into his eyes for 
a moment and burst out into a loud, contemp- 
tuous laugh. 

“ It is not ! It is not ! It is not ! ” she ex- 
claimed amid her laughter. 

“ It is not he ! ” said all in unison. 

“No! No! No!” the Jarlesa reiterated, 
falling upon her knees and commencing to 
weep again. 

“I am not her son!” exclaimed the pirate, 
drawing his dagger. “ I am not ! ” he re- 
peated, opening his shirt and disclosing the 
red and yellow insignia on his breast. “ I am 
Oscar of the. Mask,” he added, menacing all 
with the assassin’s blade. 

And, planting himself in the middle of the 
room, he looked about him defiantly ; threw 


The Last Act of Norma, 301 

back his head arrogantly, smiled with the same 
old irony and repeated : 

“ I am not her son ! I am the Boy Pirate ! ” 

Albert and Serafin put themselves between 
him and Brunhilde. 

It was none too soon. 

The bandit was going toward her with raised 
dagger, but seeing himself confronted by the 
pistols he drew back a step. 

Albert was about to shoot him; but Serafin 
prevented him. 

The mad-woman was crying and repeat- 
ing:— 

“ It is not he ! It is not he ! ” 

^‘Jarlesa de Cdlix ! ” cried Albert, fearing 
that Oscar might escape him through Serafin’s 
scruples. “ Jarlesa de Calix, your son is dead, 
and this is his assassin ! ” 

The mother jumped to her feet on hearing 
these words, sprang upon the pirate with an 
angry yell, and, clutching him by the throat 
with her claws of hands, threw him to the floor. 

As the bandit fell, he thrust his dagger into 
her left side. 


302 


Brunhildey or 


The frenzied woman uttered a wild shriek, 
and plucking the dagger from her wound, 
plunged it repeatedly into Oscar’s heart, giving 
it a vicious turn. 

The pirate’s frame quivered under the mad- 
woman’s knees ; he muttered a curse, and 
drew his last breath. 

The Jarlesa rose triumphantly, planted her 
foot on the throat of her victim, uttered a 
wild, savage laugh, and fell dead across the 
pirate’s body. 


The Last Act of Norma, 


303 


EPILOGUE. 


I. 


WENTY days later, five hundred 
leagues from Silly, on a beautiful 
spring night at sea, Serafin and 
Brunhilde, seated upon deck in the moon- 
light, with tight clasped hands, were talking 
as lovers do, oblivious to their surroundings. 

Albert, hidden by a hatchway, saw that 
picture of sacred love and sweet hope, and 
said to himself: “The devil! Here am I, a 
king, and dying of envy ! ’’ and he turned and 
went to his cabin mumuring: “ Matilde, 
Matilde ! I worship you ! why can I not tell 
you so ? ” 

Count Gustavo was walking on the quarter- 
deck. 


304 


Brunhilde^ or 


II. 

Two months have passed. 

We are in Seville. 

There is a magnificent entertainment in a 
beautiful house in the Calle de la Cuna. 

It is the wedding of Serafin with the 
Daughter of Heaven. 

It is midnight. 

Albert had just finished dancing with the 
beautiful bride, when Serafin, touching him on 
the shoulder, said : 

“ Come with me ! ” 

They crossed the drawing-room arm in arm. 
Brunhilde went with them, leaning on Jose 
Mazzetti, all the guests following. 

“What is the meaning of this procession ? ” 
asked Albert of his friend. 

“ I am about to reward you as I promised,” 
said the happy bridegroom. 

They reached the door of an apartment 
which the little Aben opened wide, disclosing 
a brilliantly illuminated chapel. 


The Last Act of Norma. 305 

A priest approaches followed by a beauti- 
ful woman, radiant with happiness. 

It is Matilde. 

“ On your knees,” said Serafin to Albert. 
Albert doubted, hesitated, wept and obeyed. 
Serafin kissed those tears. 

“They are the sisters of those which you 
once wiped away,” he said. 

All knelt. 

The priest joined the hands of Albert and 
Matilde, and united them forever. 

The ceremony concluded, Serafin said to his 
friend : “ Matilde has just celebrated her first 
nuptials — do you understand? — Make her as 
happy as you would have made her unhappy, 
some months ago.” 

Albert understood all, and exclaimed : 

“ The devil, brother ! ‘ Devil,’ for the last 

time ! I swear to travel no more, never to 
make love except to my wife, and never to 
say devil again as long as life remains.” 


3o6 


Brunhilde^ or 


III. 

A few months afterward Jos^ Mazzetti 
presented himself at Serafin’s house where 
Albert and the two new friends, Brunhilde and 
Matilde, were living, and said to Serafin: 

“ All of you are happy : all of you have 
been rewarded for what we suffered a year 
ago — but I, Serafin ? I — ” 

“ Tell me what you want.” 

“ I want Brunhilde to sing Norma at my 
benefit.” 


IV. 

After the weddings were celebrated, Count 
Gustavo returned to Silly to manage Brun- 
hilde’s immense estate. 


The Last Act of Norma. 


307 


V. 

It is the fifteenth of April, the anniversary 
of that night when Brunhilde sang Norma and 
Serafin directed the orchestra. 

It is half-past ten. 

The audience of the Principal Theatre of 
Seville are listening to the last act of Norma. 

The Daughter of Heaven is singing, Serafin 
accompanying her as he did a year ago. 
Albert, Matilde and her old aunt are in the 
same box which was then occupied by the man 
of the white cloak and Count Gustavo of Silly. 

Jos6 Mazzetti was nervously twisting in his 
seat, turning every moment to gaze upon the 
spectators as if to count them and to calculate 
the value of the house. 

The house was jammed. 

Serafin and his wife were inundated with 
flowers and applause. 

Jose Mazzetti is also happy. 


3oS 


Brunhilde^ or 


VI. 

When the opera was over, Albert remembered 
that the man of the white cloak, alias Rurico 
de Cdlix, or better yet, Oscar of the Mask, had 
arranged to meet him on that day and at that 
hour on the banks of the Guadalquivir, and 
the humor of keeping the appointment occurred 
to him, although he knew that his adversary 
would not be able to appear, as he had seen 
him buried in the ditch of the Castle at Silly. 

He took leave of his wife and friends, saying 
that he would return soon, and went to the 
designated spot. 

He was not superstitious; but as he neared 
the river, he rather regretted his heavy joke. 

“ The devil ! ” he murmured — “ I can say 
devil now because there is no one to hear me. 
That pirate is capable of coming to life to keep 
this appointment ! ” 

He finally reached the spot, where a year 
before he had spoken with the unknown 
individual, and he stopped to light a cigar. 


The Last Act of Norma. 309 

Suddenly he heard a soft sound on the 
water. 

He shook as he looked toward the river. 

It was moonlight. 

In the uncertain light, Albert distinguished 
a boat approaching the spot where he stood. 

“ The devil ! ” he exclaimed, feeling a chill 
run over him. A moment passed and he could 
perceive a white figure in the bottom of the 
boat. 

He stepped back. The apparition continued 
to approach. Albert then saw distinctly that 
the man who was guiding the boat wore a 
white cloak exactly like that of the dead 
Norwegian. 

“ It is he,” thought Albert. Did he not 
die after all ? Has he come to life again ? ” 

And, somewhat nervous, he cocked his pistol. 

The man of the white mantle jumped ashore. 

Albert hesitated a moment, then decided, 
and sprang upon the apparition — 

“ Robbers ! ” shrieked the man in the cloak. 

“ Who are you ? ” asked Albert, aiming at 
his breast. 


310 Brunhildey or 

“Sir, I am a poor boatman with a large 
family.” 

Albert then looked at him attentively and 
saw that he really was a rough fisherman. 

“ Where did you get this disguise ? ” asked 
Albert, with still a little doubt left. 

“ Sir, I found it last year, just such a night 
as this, out there in the middle of the river.” 

“ I am a fool ! ” exclaimed Albert, putting up 
his pistol. 

“ This white cloak is the one which our 
pirate threw into the Guadalquivir that night. I 
beg your pardon, my good man,” he added — 
and he filled his hand with silver, asking that 
damaged garment in return^ 

The boatman accepted the offer cheerfully. 

Albert returned to the house and exhibited 
his trophy before the astonished eyes of Brun- 
hilde and Serafin. 

^ He related his comical adventure, which drew 
forth ^hrieks of laughter ; and this was the last 
time in all their lives that they spoke of their 
misfortunes. 


The Last Act of Norma. 


3 


VII. 

Four years have passed. 

Brunhilde, Matilde, Serafin and Albert are 
travelling in Italy. 

Their children are beautiful, and play to- 
gether. 

God bless them. 


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